


The Unrelenting Past

by Aelfgyfu



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Penguins, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 15:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1823980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelfgyfu/pseuds/Aelfgyfu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple mission to get the team and Carson back up to speed after the events of "Phantoms": just a friendly planet with a medical problem and some pleasant scenery. They should have known there are no simple missions as the past haunts the present, both for the team and for the people of the planet they visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks yet again to Redbyrd and to my Brilliant Husband for close readings, catching errors, and making many great suggestions. Remaining errors are solely mine.
> 
> First posted on The Mead Hall 26 February 2008.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis and its characters belong to MGM-UA, Gekko, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, Stargate SG-1, Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, NBC/Sci Fi, and no doubt other persons or entities whom I've forgotten (this list keeps getting longer). No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, my stories make no sense if you haven't seen the shows, so I encourage you to watch! And get all the DVDs! Just like I do!

John rubbed at his eyes and took another swig of coffee. He really needed more sleep. It was almost enough to make him see Heightmeyer—but not quite. He had nothing against her; he just didn't like to talk to shrinks. And he really didn't need to. Everyone had trouble sleeping and bad dreams now and then.

"John? Are you all right?" Teyla asked after she sat down, drawing Ronon's attention as he came into the briefing room as well. Even Lorne glanced over.

Damn. He didn't think it showed. "Not a great night," he admitted.

"Shoulda come to the gym yesterday," Ronon said with a grin. "I bet you'd have slept better."

John didn't feel quite ready to fight Ronon again yet. Dr. Beckett said the big guy was ready for duty, but it hadn't been that long since John had shot him. Of course, it wasn't like he ever beat Ronon. Maybe he should try some hand-to-hand with him again; having Ronon wipe the floor with him might actually make him feel better.

Elizabeth came in, as bright and alert as always, despite the fact that Rodney was talking her ear off and sat down next to her so that he could continue to tell her about some recent catastrophe.

"Have you seen Dr. Beckett yet this morning?" she asked John when Rodney made the mistake of pausing to wait for an answer.

"No, I haven't. You want me to radio—"

"Sorry I'm late! Had a bit of a—oh, never mind." Carson dropped into a chair next to Rodney." He was a little out of breath. Running to get to the briefing, or nervous about what he probably suspected was an off-world mission?

When Elizabeth met with John yesterday after debriefing Lorne and his team on their return, she'd told him that she was concerned their CMO had been avoiding going off-world again. Beckett had been verging on phobic when they first arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy, but he'd improved for a time. Then, a few weeks ago, he'd lost a patient because of a damned Wraith machine messing with his mind. Once Elizabeth mentioned it, John realized Carson had been avoiding missions: he'd sent Biro to give kids shots, for God's sake. It was time for Beckett to get off Atlantis again, and this mission was as good as any, and better than a lot they got. He hoped. Elizabeth wanted Carson to go on this mission, and she had enlisted John's help. She wanted Sheppard's team both because he had first met with the Jaqui and won their trust, and because there were so many unknowns. The lead team might get in more trouble than any of the other teams, but they'd also gotten _out_ of more trouble than any of the other teams.

John led off the briefing, reminding Teyla and Rodney about their first meeting with the Jaqui and bringing Ronon and Carson up to speed. Sheppard and his original team—he still couldn't think of Aiden Ford without a pang—had met the Jaqui in their first few months on Atlantis. 

John still smarted a little at the memory of being caught off-balance when they first came to this planet. The team had been scouting the area when suddenly they'd found themselves faced by three people with crossbows. They'd been told there were more bowmen they couldn't see, and Sheppard had looked over McKay's shoulder as Rodney stared hopelessly at the Life Signs Detector, trying to tell people from animals.

Instead of being captured or killed, however, they had been invited to make themselves comfortable on the ground and put their weapons down, which did _not_ make any of them comfortable. After waiting long enough to become quite well-acquainted with the flora in their immediate vicinity—if only they'd had Parrish along, at least someone could have had fun—they met with two more natives who smiled all the time while the soldiers, or hunters, or whatever they were, never moved.

It turned out that the Athosians knew of them. They occasionally traded with these people, who called themselves the Jaqui, but they had always met them on some other planet; Teyla had not even recognized the address when they dialed it, because no Athosian had ever been to this world, as far as she knew. The Jaqui admitted they prefer no one know their homeworld, and one old man said they'd have left them to think the planet uninhabited, but they had gotten too far from the Gate.

Finally, to Sheppard's surprise, the Jaqui had agreed to allow them to check back every season to share news and see if they could ever be of assistance to one another. Sheppard figured it was a waste of time, but it wasn't a waste of _his_ time; other teams had always checked in with them, usually Lorne's. 

Here Lorne took over. Yesterday, his team had made the regular contact. Always before, they were greeted with smiles and a fruit drink, and then asked for news. The flow of information had always been pretty one-sided before, with news from the Jaqui always turning out to be trivial or something they already knew.

This time, however, the Jaqui seemed more serious—"although," Lorne commented, "they didn't forget the fruit juice." They requested medical help, Lorne explained, saying that Sheppard's team had initially offered that as a possible item of trade. Lorne said they seemed healthy, and they had been assured there was no major contagion, just a few difficult cases for which they could use assistance. The Jaqui had explained that they'd concluded from their appearance that Lorne and his people were far advanced.

McKay snorted. "Yeah! They're running around with bows and arrows!"

"Crossbows," Teyla corrected. "They are deadly weapons."

Ronon smirked. "And a _simple_ bow and arrow was enough to take you down!"

"Let's stick to the point," Elizabeth said in a voice that didn't sound loud but somehow carried. "Major Lorne, your assessment?"

Lorne nodded. "They seemed sincere." He ignored the noise from McKay. "They've always been friendly and unthreatening—"

"Aside from the time they held us at gunpoint! Well, arrow—arrow-point!"

"I thought arrows were not dangerous weapons?" Teyla asked in the sort of tone of voice that might fool someone who didn't know her into thinking she was asking an innocent question.

Beckett spoke up. "You must have gotten some kind of description of the illness."

Lorne shook his head. "Sorry, Doc. They asked if anyone of us was a healer, and Sanchez said he was a medic and offered to take a look. But they said they wanted a real healer. They were kind of apologetic, but they've always kept to themselves, and when they said they didn't want anyone to see their sick until a fully-trained healer came..."

"Doesn't that strike anyone as suspicious?" Great time for Rodney to get perceptive—just when Elizabeth and John wanted to present a mission as simple and safe. "They don't even have real doctors, just _healers_ , and yet they can make a distinction between a doctor and a medic?"

"My people use the term healer as well," Teyla answered, her features hardening. Oh, McKay was really putting his foot in it today.

"Sanchez is a soldier," Beckett said reasonably. "That's obvious from his clothes and weapons."

"Not if you don't know that yellow is the medical color!" 

Lorne frowned, considering. "Well, they did ask if he was a _full_ healer—"

"So of course you told them the truth?" McKay asked incredulously.

"Hey! Who decided to tell the nice people with the ZPM that we weren't really Ancients?" John couldn't help but ask.

"That was _years_ ago!" Rodney's voice went up a little. That little misstep must still be a sore spot.

"Well, we can certainly send someone to have a look, if you think it's safe," Carson said, surprisingly unperturbed.

Lorne looked at Sheppard. "I saw nothing to indicate any danger, sir, and we've been going there every few months for two years now."

"So, you think it's worth checking?" Elizabeth asked Carson.

Carson frowned a little. "I hate to turn down people asking for medical help. Especially when we've known them so long and they've never done us any harm."

"Good," Elizabeth said, and she had her mouth open to say more, but the doc hadn't finished.

"And we have a new doctor on staff who hasn't been off Atlantis since she got here," Carson continued. "Think this would be a good mission for her?" He looked at John.

John had expected Carson to volunteer somebody else—that had generally been the doctor's MO since they got to the Pegasus galaxy—but he hadn't expected Carson to look to him for approval.

"No, I think it might be a good mission for our CMO!" John shot back.

"Why?" Beckett's forehead wrinkled. 

"He has a point, Carson," Elizabeth answered smoothly while the doctor's head swiveled to look at her. "You haven't been off-world in a while." 

"Gotta keep you up to scratch," John said with a grin as the doctor turned his head to face him again.

"Dr. Keller _did_ just arrive on the Daedalus; perhaps we should give her more time to get her bearings?" Elizabeth suggested, and sure enough, the doctor's head went back. This was kind of fun. John was glad he'd sat opposite Elizabeth.

So of course John had to get the next word in. "They're long-time allies that you haven't met, Doc! You've gotta come!"

That made the doctor's mouth pop open, but no words came out.

"It is a tropical planet," Teyla announced with a smile. "You have been working so hard on Atlantis; you deserve some time away."

Okay, that line of reasoning didn't exactly follow the others, but he'd take it. Elizabeth had said she didn't want this to come down to an order, and Sheppard agreed. What they really wanted was for the doc to _want_ to go off-world, but that was too much to hope. He'd settle for not getting too much argument.

Sadly, Rodney wasn't with the program. "Tropical! You make it sound like a vacation spot! Think Central America: heat, humidity, mosquitoes—" Fortunately, Carson's head had now turned towards the man next to him, so he couldn't see the simultaneous death glares Rodney received from various parts of the room.

Of course, it wasn't clear McKay had seen them either.

John jumped in. "Think beautiful women, not wearing a whole lot—" 

Oops. Now John was getting the Look of Death from both women in the room, and a smirk from Rodney, but Teyla broke it off to say something else encouraging, and Ronon expressed great interest in seeing this planet.

"But I don't likethe heat," Beckett finally said, when he could get a word in.

"Well, suck it up!" Rodney said unexpectedly. "I have to go to all these horrible climates; why shouldn't you?" 

"Beats the cold," Sheppard said.

"At least if it's cold, you can put on more clothes!" Beckett shot back.

"Hey, you can always take something off." Ronon, wearing some sleeveless get-up, eyed Carson up and down. The doctor squirmed in his long-sleeved t-shirt and lab coat.

Lorne suddenly had a coughing fit. "It's not that bad, honest," he chipped in a moment later when he could speak. "They're really friendly, Doc." He even managed not to say, "for people who don't like outsiders," which he must have been thinking.

John wondered if Elizabeth had gotten Lorne on board, too.

"They always offer us drinks, and sometimes food," Lorne continued. "And their food's pretty good, actually."

"And they haven't shot you—yet," Rodney added sharply .

It took a while for arguments to be settled and details to be worked out, but in the end, John had what he wanted. Beckett was going. John gave Elizabeth a nod and a grin as they left the room after everyone else, and she smiled back.

*****

Carson had been given less than one day to pull himself and his pack together to treat an unknown number of patients suffering from unknown ailments on a planet that had neither asked for help nor offered information in the previous two years. He couldn't stop them from dragging him along—although he certainly had made a strenuous effort—but he could make his displeasure known. 

So he did, at some length. The pack felt like it was getting heavier and heavier, so after a while, he threw in: "I've got enough in my pack for a whole laboratory because no one could tell me what I might be dealing with." He tossed dirty glances around the team, though they were too intent on tramping through the greenery to pay any attention to him, he feared. They'd been walking through jungle from the Gate for well over an hour already, and he was soaked with sweat. He hated being sweaty. The huge trees that towered over them kept direct sunlight off them for the most part, but the heat and humidity were still bad enough. It had to be 30° in the shade.

He'd much rather have sent someone else. Jennifer Keller was new and enthusiastic; she should get a chance to go off-world. He'd told Doctor Weir that, but she had sided with Colonel Sheppard for some reason.

They refused to acknowledge that things always went badly when Carson went out with a team. Especially this team, for some reason. Maybe he should have asked to go with Lorne's team. Rodney didn't want to come anyway.

"Well, I have no idea what's wrong with any of those people, so you can't blame me," Rodney answered him when no one else would. "In fact, I have no business being on this expedition at all, and they made me carry some of your stuff because Colonel Sheppard said I wasn't packing as much equipment as usual! But of course that's wrong, because I figured I had better bring my instruments just in case we encountered any technology we missed last time." He snorted. "Fat chance of that. I don't know why I bother. Except that it would be really useful to have another ZPM—"

"Zee!" John exclaimed suddenly. "It's zee! Not zed! Zee! Zee Pee Em!"

"Well, _zed_ is what the civilized world calls it. Right, Carson?"

Carson agreed automatically, but then he considered that it had been a very long time since he last heard Colonel Sheppard arguing with Rodney over how to pronounce the final letter of the alphabet. Perhaps he and Rodney were overdoing the complaints just a little. On the other hand, it been all too recently that John had felt so guilty over shooting Rodney that he'd let Rodney get away with almost anything. It was good to hear John sniping back at Rodney, in a purely figurative sense.

That mission where they'd been shooting at each other had been a rescue mission, Carson remembered. And what were they calling this?

Rodney had picked up the litany of complaints where Carson left off. Carson was impressed that Rodney could speak so fluently while clearly a little winded.

"God!" Sheppard interrupted. "If I wanted a whine tour, I'd have gone to Napa Valley!"

Yes, he was steamed—in more ways than one. Carson felt a little guilty. Everyone was hot; everyone had heavy packs. Walking through the jungle had lost its appeal some time ago.

He might even have apologized, except that Rodney said, "Napa? Isn't that a kind of cabbage?" It was too good a chance to pass up.

Even Carson had heard of Napa Valley wines, so he knew Rodney must have done. But he found himself agreeing: "Aye, I think you're right, Rodney."

"Used in Chinese food," Rodney replied sagely.

Sheppard huffed loudly.

"I do believe that's correct," Carson said, though he'd never made any Chinese food himself and really couldn't name many of the ingredients.

"I miss Chinese food," Rodney said with genuine longing. "Toronto has the best Chinese food anywhere. Outside of China, of course," he added hastily. Odd. Carson thought Rodney didn't even like exotic foods. "Peking duck.... Now that's the greatest. It has two courses. The first is just the skin, done all crispy. And the sauce...."

Sheppard groaned. "How'd you like some lemon chicken right about now, McKay?"

"Indian," Carson said wistfully. "I could really fancy a bite of vindaloo right now. I haven't had any since before Antarctica!"

Rodney began extolling the virtues of a good curry.

"Food." Ronon's deep rumble from the front carried back to them. "You got them talking about food again, Sheppard."

"It's not my fault!" an exasperated Sheppard answered. "I wasn't talking about food! I was talking about _wine_. It was a pun—whine and wine, get it?"

"Oh," Rodney said, turning enough that Carson could see a convincing blank look on his face. "You mentioned cabbage. What does wine have to do with cabbage? Or whining, for that matter? Unless it's whining about cabbage. I mean, does anyone really _like_ cabbage?"

Barely holding his lips back from a betraying grin, Carson answered, "I like cabbage just fine, thank you very much. But cabbage wine doesn't sound very good to me." He managed to sound very dubious.

"You drink wine made from cabbage?" Teyla inquired curiously: cabbage or something like it seemed to grow everywhere in the universe, and the Athosians had it too. Carson almost felt guilty again. Almost. 

"No! No, we do _not_ drink wine made from cabbage! At least I don't think we do...." Sheppard's voice was really taking on an edge. " _I_ don't. Napa Valley is where grapes for wine are grown, and these two clowns would know that if they ever got out and lived a little."

"They grow grapes among the cabbages?" Carson asked Rodney in an undertone just loud enough to carry back to where Sheppard brought up the rear.

"Huh. Maybe it's one of those symbiotic things, where the cabbages put into the soil some of the nutrients that the vines take out."

"Ooh, I've heard of such things," Carson agreed. "My mum says—" 

Sheppard relieved him of the need to make up anything for his mum to have said with a strangled cry. "You can't really be that stupid! Either of you!"

Carson turned and looked at the colonel. Sheppard's face was even redder than Rodney's. He must be angry. Teasing him like this was not fair. But then again, Sheppard insisting that if Carson wanted to help these people, he had to go himself, and not send Keller or someone else, wasn't fair, either. 

"Napa Valley is just the name of the valley where they grow the grapes! It doesn't have anything to do with cabbage. I think," Sheppard added, then winced at his own admission of uncertainty.

"And where is this Napa Valley?" Rodney asked imperiously.

"California, you dope!" 

Rodney looked at Carson. "California wines," he said with a hint of condescension.

"Ah. California wines." Carson gave Sheppard an uncertain look.

"You know, we're all stuck on this planet together for at least the next twenty-six hours," Sheppard said. "So if I were you? I'd quit before I really pissed one of us off."

Rodney started to bluster.

"You have to sleep sometime," Ronon called back, tossing a look over his shoulder.

Carson let it go, and he was relieved that even Rodney decided to keep still for a while.

*****

Sheppard was partly relieved to hear Beckett needling the team, because all too often the past several months, the doc had been silent, though in a good mood he talked as much as Rodney. He was also partly annoyed. Heat he could handle, but he didn't like the humidity. Worse, there was no obvious path from the Stargate; they kept pushing their way through vast amounts of foliage that simply closed up behind them again. He didn't like it. He couldn't keep his bearings, and that made him nervous. And they'd been walking for well over an hour, and the two men just wouldn't shut up!

McKay was in fine form today, and John knew he should just be grateful that Rodney had stopped reminding him that he'd shot him. He was truly thankful that Rodney had healed quickly and fully. He should be go easier on him. Wasn't Rodney's fault he'd slept badly again.

Then again, Rodney wasn't getting the worst of this exchange. Sheppard seemed to be the clear loser here, at least until Ronon threw in his threat. 

The landscape around them seemed to be changing. Instead of towering trees and dense undergrowth, they were suddenly walking among medium-sized trees, and the bushes and ferns and whatever else they were walking through seemed to be thinning out.

"Almost there!" shouted the guide cheerfully from the front of the line. Taban was short, like all the people they'd met here, and Sheppard didn't know whether to be amused or impressed at the sight of the little man keeping pace with Ronon by taking three steps for every two of Ronon's. A little of each, maybe.

"Oh, thank God!" the doctor exclaimed.

McKay muttered something John couldn't quite hear, and he didn't ask Rodney to repeat it.

The guide was right, and not fifteen minutes later, a welcoming party greeted them in a small pavilion under the trees with some kind of fruit drink (which McKay declined even after Beckett assured him there was no hint of citrus) and a varied luncheon spread. They'd had lunch a few hours before on Atlantis, but by now they were hungry again, and between the walk and the change in the time of day, Sheppard knew they'd all need the food. They ate under a pavilion with open sides and a thatched roof, sitting on the ground at low tables with a dozen of the natives.

Taban introduced everyone again, for which John was grateful; the only person he remembered from his first trip was Phutu, a little old man smaller than Teyla.

They exchanged greetings and sat down to eat. Phutu asked John about their walk through the jungle, looking altogether too guileless for an elder of a people in the Pegasus galaxy.

They talked about the climate and the food, John feigning a curiosity he really didn't feel while he tried to keep an eye on his people. Somehow they'd been maneuvered to sit apart from each other, each one engaged in conversation with a couple of Jaqui and not with each other. Were the Jaqui being polite, or trying to keep them off balance? Phutu's conversation hardly seemed geared towards gathering intel—but maybe they weren't trying to get anything out of the obviously military leader of the group. They'd have more luck with the civilians, wouldn't they?

Phutu was asking for news of Sheppard's people, and he trotted out the standard line about Atlantis being destroyed and having a new home. Phutu offered plenty of sympathy for their hardships.

"And yet you take the time to come help us!" the man said pleasantly. "It is very kind of you to assist!"

Sheppard shrugged. "We're hoping you can offer us something in return."

Phutu's smile didn't dim. "You know that our resources are humble, but we will surely see what we can do."

They went a few more rounds with vague talk, Phutu not specifying what they wanted or had to give, John not saying what Atlantis could use—mostly because he didn't think these people had anything they could use. If they did, they did a damned good job of hiding it, which did not bode well for a future alliance.

And he was getting really tired of the friendly-native shtick. 

"You do not trust us," Phutu said suddenly.

"I'll be honest," he said, because he had nothing to lose, and he wasn't going to say anything the other man didn't already know. "I don't know why you've allowed us to visit, since you haven't shown any interest in any kind of alliance or mutual aid until now. The teams we've had visit have always reported that you weren't surprised at any of our news; we know you have a few people going through the Gate, trading. We haven't been giving you much; you haven't been giving us anything."

Phutu merely raised his eyebrows.

"That makes us think you must be desperate to ask for our help this time. But this little luncheon doesn't show any signs of desperation; you're not rushing our doctor over there"—he nodded at Beckett, whose smiles to the people around him were belied by the tension in his shoulders as he made conversation at a nearby low table—"to look at critical patients. And I don't know if you have anything to offer us. The whole situation makes me nervous," he finished.

"That is why we made certain we allowed you to pick up your own cups and pour your own drinks from the pitchers," answered Phutu, the innocent smile never leaving his face. "We are nervous too. We do not normally allow people from other planets past the Ring of the Ancestors. No one from another world has been invited to our village in generations."

"Don't worry," Sheppard said with a grin that showed his teeth. "I'm not sure we could find this place again without help—I'd be hard pressed to find our way back to the Gate."

"But that one would not." Phutu tilted his head at Ronon a few places over. Ronon noticed the motion and looked steadily back. Phutu nodded at Ronon before returning his gaze to Sheppard. "We are being honest. We have not, of course, told you everything." 

The old man grinned as wide as he could—quite wide enough for Sheppard to realize something that should have struck him sooner. The man's teeth appeared to be in good shape. They were crooked, like he'd never had braces and could have used them, but they weren't rotten. He might be missing one, but only one. Damn. He already knew they were hiding things. Good dentistry wasn't threatening, but the things that went along with it often were.

"And you are not telling us everything," the old man continued. "We are not trying to cheat or harm you, but you will not know that until you have spent some time with us. The same on our side. Two years is a long time for either of us to lie in wait hoping for an opportunity to take advantage of the other. In the meantime, we have occasionally heard stories about you helping people. We now have more confidence in you. You, on the other hand, have probably heard no more news of us than you had before you came here?"

Sheppard nodded, curious where this was leading.

"So either," the man said with another big smile, "we are fantastically subtle and patient, or we are what we appear to be: a people neither hostile nor eager to ally with a people as formidable, and sometimes foolhardy, as yours."

He paused, apparently waiting for an answer. "Go on," John said. "I'm listening. I'm fascinated, in fact."

Phutu took another big swig of juice. "We could have captured or killed you at any time since you left the Ring. We could have stolen all that you carry, including your impressive weapons and the medical supplies we assume you have brought; we could have taken you hostage. We have not. We will not. And we sincerely hope that you will not rob us, kill us, find the raw materials you sought before and take them without treating our sick, or various other alternatives that I would consider were I a pessimist."

"Good thing you're not! A pessimist, I mean," Sheppard added. He didn't quite know how to answer this speech, which was doubtless how it was intended. It had certainly caught him off balance. It didn't shake his suspicions. What scans they had been able to complete on their first visit had not shown any raw materials of particular interest.

"You do not know me yet," Phutu said. "I hope over the next few days, we will come to understand each other a little better."

Sheppard wished Elizabeth had come on this mission. He was pretty good at reading people, had been for years, but she was a pro. She wouldn't be sitting here letting this old guy creep her out. Well, he wouldn't let the old guy creep him out either.

*****

Several Jaqui introduced themselves—too many for Carson to keep track, with their exotic-sounding names. They seemed thrilled to see him; he might have thought it was because he was a doctor and they must need help pretty badly to ask for it, but they seemed just as happy to talk to Rodney, despite Rodney sniffing all his food before eating it, calling out to Carson repeatedly to identify it, and making odd faces at it. 

He was grateful after lunch when one of their hosts reintroduced himself as Challa and took Carson to a hut to meet his patients. Teyla offered at once to help. While Teyla had good first-aid training and would certainly be Carson's choice from the team as an assistant, he'd been off-world enough to know that she wasn't really accompanying him as an aide, but rather to watch over him. They hardly knew these people at all.

He tried not to think that having someone with him had not prevented him from cocking things up completely on more than one occasion.

They walked past a handful of simple thatched huts, but the building they approached was larger and sturdier, and almost hidden in a thick grove of trees. It was the largest building Carson had seen on the planet. Carson wished they had had some information from one of their anthropologists at the briefing, but the colonel and the major had said that their teams never made it far from the Gate.

Challa introduced a woman roughly Carson's age as Kana, telling him she was the main healer at the hospital. Kana gave him a tour not of the hospital, which was mostly one room, but the patients.

Carson spent a long afternoon on a surprisingly routine batch of cases. He saw several minor infections and dispensed antibiotics. Kana and Challa eagerly questioned him about the drugs' actions and how they were made. Carson told them what he could, and then he asked after their medications. 

"Our medicines are much simpler than yours," Kana told him humbly. "I doubt you would be interested." Challa looked away; he seemed embarrassed.

"You'd be surprised," Carson answered. "Many of our medications are based on plants. We've learned to synthesize a number of them—to produce them more easily," he quickly substituted for listeners unused to manufacture, "but we're still finding new drugs in plants that have been around for centuries. People on my homeworld only recently discovered a compound in tree bark that may hold a new treatment for lung cancer."

The two Jaqui were electrified by news of the bark, interrupting each other to ask him what the tree was called. When they didn't recognize the name "lapacho," they asked him to describe the tree. He was sorry to say that he couldn't.

As he continued to work, Carson saw no medical emergencies, and he was amazed at the general good health of the patients he was treating. He saw no malnutrition, no serious birth defects, and no old, unhealed injuries. Why had they asked for a doctor at all?


	2. Chapter 2

Taban said he was there to make sure they didn't get lost, but he must be keeping an eye on them. He wasn't preventing them from seeing anything or going anywhere, at least not yet; he was more tagging along. He tended to stick close to McKay, trying to see what Rodney was doing and asking questions about the scanner that Rodney answered impatiently at best, but Taban never interfered noticeably.

Nor did the two or three others whom John couldn't quite make out. He knew Ronon had seen them too, and at one point, Ronon flashed four fingers at him. Damn. Ronon had seen more than he had, and even trying, John couldn't manage to count four of the shadows flitting through the trees. He needed to be sharper than this.

Rodney had been scanning for various things. They'd gone south of the small settlement first, back under the taller jungle canopy, but that didn't produce more than trace readings of anything useful. Sheppard looked over his shoulder occasionally and saw that Rodney kept checking for power readings, radiation, and various kinds of chemicals; Sheppard hadn't even had to tell him to. McKay was as paranoid about the Genii as Sheppard himself, which was a good thing.

Rodney was being Rodney. It was too hot and humid. The mosquitoes bit Rodney worse than anyone else. The whole trip was a waste of time. The complaints wound on and on, John parrying them sometimes for fun—until Taban interrupted the fifteenth or sixteenth complaint about mosquitoes.

"It is said," he offered quietly, "that mosquitoes may be attracted to human breath. Perhaps if you focus on breathing through your nose...."

Sheppard burst out laughing. "He's telling you to shut up!"

A grin escaped Taban. "I would never say that!"

"Too polite," Ronon chipped in.

Rodney, of course, was not amused. "Oh, because what he said is much _more_ polite than telling me to shut up!" 

"Rodney can't think without his mouth open," Sheppard said to Taban in a confiding tone. He liked this guy; not many people would trade words with Rodney this way, amused but not offended.

"Sometimes I _do_ think aloud, Sheppard—as do you!" McKay waved the scanner towards Sheppard, "but _most_ of the time, I think faster than I could possibly articulate."

"That's truly impressive!" said Taban. "For you speak so _very_ fast!"

Rodney glared and opened his mouth, but Sheppard had to tell his new friend: "You haven't even really heard him get going yet!"

"Yeah," Ronon agreed. 

Rodney scowled and pointed the scanner at him like it was a weapon. How was this one John's fault? "We're not getting anything here. Look, do you have _any_ clue where we might find naquada, or trinium? Oh, I don't know why I'm even bothering to ask! I mean, you people—"

"Rodney!" Sheppard interrupted.

"Perhaps we have different names for the substances you seek," Taban said happily, making John now certain that the man had realized that his cheerfulness irritated Rodney. "I think you will find better mineral deposits to the north of our village; the south has excellent soil, and if we went further southwest we would find some of our best growing areas, but I think the nutrients we use for growing things are not the ones that interest you."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" Rodney snapped. He started to go 180° from the way he'd come. "No, wait...." He consulted his scanner.

"North is that way," Ronon said, pointing about 70° to Rodney's left.

"I was getting there! And don't tell me I didn't ask!" Rodney snapped, walking back past Taban and Sheppard. "We've only been walking this way for a _eighty minutes_ already...." 

"Are you related to Phutu, by the way?" asked Sheppard, letting Rodney fade out. Ronon was with him; they could fall behind a little.

"Yes!" The small man beamed. "He is my grandfather! You see a resemblance?"

Not physically, no. Taban turned out to be one of the taller Jaqui; they seemed to average around five feet, and his grandfather must be a good four inches below that. Taban's brown skin seemed darker, and his hair held none of the gray that covered Phutu's head. But the quick smile and the quicker wit....

"Oh, definitely," John answered.

Almost two hours, and many mosquitoes, later, Rodney announced, "Increased levels of radiation. I wasn't sure for a while, but the readings are definitely showing an increase."

"Radiation?" Taban echoed.

And before John could stop him, Rodney was explaining radiation at top speed with a good dose of condescension thrown in. Damn! He'd wanted to see what Taban already knew; he wanted to hear what specifically Taban asked, but Rodney assumed he knew nothing and started with an explanation of solar radiation and was well on his way to hydrogen bombs before John managed to cut him off with a simple, "It can also be produced by certain kinds of weapons."

Taban frowned deeply, his first visible concern all day. "Is it dangerous to us?" 

"Not at these levels, no," Rodney said confidently. "I want to see if they get higher." He held the scanner in front of him, and John had a sudden image in his mind's eye of McKay with a dowsing rod. It would look much the same as the scanner did, he decided. Rodney had something of that same air of magic about him, too.

But damn, he didn't want to hear about radiation. He'd all but promised Beckett—and Weir—a safe mission. And Rodney and Ronon hadn't been back on their feet for _that_ long.

*****

Two patients in the little hospital with malaria had been treated with the local medicine, the healers explained, and that worked for most patients—but it had not worked for these. Closer examination showed the disease and its treatment to be very similar to Earth's malaria, and the tree bark medication was roughly equivalent to quinine.

Carson had brought samples of many medications, including chloroquine, and he quickly prescribed some for the patients. It would have been better, however, if he'd known to prescribe some for his teammates in advance. He knew the place was tropical, and Rodney had mentioned mosquitoes; he should have thought of malaria sooner. Of course, Rodney had also mentioned "Montezuma's revenge," heat exhaustion, citrus, pirhanas, and Lyme disease, among others.

With a quick apology to the Jaqui, he took Teyla outside, gave her a dose and took one himself. "Preventive," he explained. "Malaria's treatable, but it can be quite nasty." 

She nodded and took the pill without complaint.

He handed her a small bottle with more. "Could you run around please, love, and make sure the others each take a dose? One pill each."

Teyla frowned, and Carson grimaced in reaction. "Right. You're not to leave me alone." He radioed the team before she could explain, which she no doubt would have done quite gracefully. "Have you all been seeing mosquitoes?" he asked.

"Oh, God, yes!" Rodney didn't need to identify himself over the comm. No question was rhetorical when Rodney was involved. "They love me! I've already got—" 

Carson cut him off gently and told them to come to the hospital for a preventive dose of chloroquine.

"Preventive?" Rodney sounded anxious. "What if I've already got malaria?"

"Then the drug will treat it, Rodney."

"Right. We'll be there in—how far is it to where the Carson is?" he asked someone obviously not on the radio. 

Sheppard came on the radio. "About twenty-five minutes, Doc," he said more calmly.

As soon as he signed off, Teyla was apologizing for refusing to leave. "It is safest for everyone that we go nowhere alone."

Carson held up a hand. "I know," he said, but he didn't really believe it. He knew that she was looking out for him; if these people did turn out to be concealing something, protecting the CMO would be a priority. They should have brought one of the other doctors. Not just to protect him, but to protect themselves. He didn't exactly have a great record at handling crises outside Atlantis.

He feared Teyla was there largely to prevent a repeat of the Lucius incident. That really wasn't his fault; he wasn't to know the man had that pheromone! Anyone with Carson, or anyone in his place, would probably have been affected just as badly. But Carson had been affected first—and he'd brought Lucius _back_ with him, to Atlantis, breaking all protocols. A colossal blunder. Knowing that others had been badly affected by Lucius's herb didn't make him feel much better.

Carson went back in and had nearly finished with the patients before him when he heard Rodney's voice, expounding on a topic Carson really didn't want to hear.

Carson pulled his medical scanner out of a pocket and stepped out of the hut. He was scanning Rodney before the men came to a full halt. 

"What are you doing?" Rodney asked after he took the pill Teyla handed him with a big gulp of water.

"I heard you say radiation—"

"Oh, it's hardly more than background radiation! Believe me, if I thought it was anything to worry about, I'd have been here a lot sooner!"

That was doubtless true. Rodney was sometimes irritating, but he was better than these macho military men who could be about to lose a limb and not say anything. 

After everyone had been dosed, Carson and Teyla returned to the patients. The healers had very little to show him that they had not already shown him. One patient had an unexplained rash; Carson finally gave her some allergy medication but couldn't make any promises.

He was struck by both how new and how minor the medical problems seemed to be. "How many people do you have in your settlement?" he finally asked. 

Challa looked away, and Kana hesitated.

"I just wondered," Carson hastened to explain. "I mean, you don't seem to have a lot of sick people here. I know you assured the team who came here a few days ago that you weren't facing any serious contagions, but I thought you'd have more patients for me."

Kana answered. "Yes, we are fortunate to be a fairly healthy people. We do, however, have a few difficult cases...."

The two Jaqui looked at each other, and Carson wondered what they were getting into now.

Kana obviously sensed his unease. "You must forgive us," she said. "We do not welcome visitors often. We are reluctant to give up information about ourselves, especially information that would be valuable to the Wraith."

"The Wraith surely have better ways of figuring out how many people you have here than asking us!" Carson blurted before he thought it through. "I do understand your hesitation, however. We don't tell everyone all about ourselves, either."

"You have already done much to earn our trust. And these other patients are some distance away. I think tomorrow will be time enough to see them," the healer said mildly. 

A test. Carson had spent the afternoon passing a test. He should have realized. He thought they were watching his every move to learn from him, but they were watching to see if he was any good, like a first-year resident. He felt a surge of anger, but he tried not to let it show.

Kana smiled an apology anyway. "Challa, why don't you ask if our guests can see our beach?" Kana suggested, and the man took off at an easy run, as if he were eager to be out of the hut. "The evening meal will be soon."

*****

"We can't _walk_ far enough fast enough to learn anything significant!" Rodney finally broke off muttering to himself to shout to the others. "I really need a Jumper!"

"What is a Jumper?" asked Taban.

Sheppard stepped in before Rodney could give another excessively helpful explanation. "It's a kind of ship," he said, waiting to see if the man understood, or asked what use a ship would be on dry land, or simply didn't know what a ship _was_ ; they were, after all, in the middle of the jungle.

Taban seemed genuinely puzzled for just a moment and then said, "An airship? Like the Wraith have?" A mix of curiosity and dread tinged his voice.

"Yes, but not...." Rodney broke off. "Much better! We don't normally use it to _attack_ people," he said. "And we can't beam people off—and we wouldn't be taking people anyway—oh, forget it...." He looked at Sheppard.

"It's okay, Rodney. I'm sure word of the Jumpers has gotten out," he answered, keeping most of his attention on Taban.

"I did not know that you have airships like the Wraith," Taban said. "My grandfather might. He hears all the news."

Ronon stood silently, arms folded, watching Taban as intently as Sheppard did—and more obviously. Sheppard had little doubt Phutu knew about the Jumpers.

"So can we ask him if we can bring a Jumper?" Rodney asked after a moment.

Taban nodded slowly. "He might say no," he answered, "but you can ask."

Sheppard did, asking the old man himself when they got back to the village. He was still sitting in the pavilion where they'd had lunch, talking with others who went away when Taban led the group in purposefully.

"No," Phutu answered slowly. "We do not want such things on our planet." The old man frowned, though, when Rodney told him of the radiation, and he asked, "It is not dangerous, is it?"

"Not the levels I'm reading so far, but it definitely increases farther from the settlement."

"So at some distance it may become dangerous?"

"Yes! That's why I need a Jumper!" Rodney said, waving around the scanner he still held. "I mean, I hope it's safe, but in a Jumper, I could take readings, see if it's nearing harmful levels—and tell your people to stay outside the area."

"North of here?" Phutu turned to Taban.

"North north-east," Taban confirmed. 

Phutu professed ignorance, but the smile returned to his face soon, and Sheppard wasn't convinced that news of the radiation came as a surprise to him.

Rodney's lecture on radiation neither horrified nor impressed Taban, nor Phutu, when he repeated it. Was that because they had grown up fearing a race whose technology included energy guns, flying ships, and a transporter, so that horrific weapons came as no surprise even when he didn't understand them? Or because they knew more about radiation than they let on?

Taban and Phutu had fallen silent. 

"Perhaps this decision should not be taken by one alone," the old man said, raising his hands in a sort of shrug. "Let me confer with the others about your Jumper. I trust tomorrow will be time enough for an answer?" 

Rodney huffed impatiently, but Sheppard agreed, and Taban was directed to entertain their guests. He hardly had to, as the others called to say they were going to see a beach. Taban led the way.

*****

"Beach? I thought we were in the middle of a bloody jungle!" Carson exclaimed. 

Kana gave him a brilliant smile. "Our village is in the forest, not the jungle. And the beach is...one of our treasures. We do not share it lightly."

Carson tried to ask more about the patients, but Kana put him off.

"I am uncertain what to tell you. These are more...difficult cases, perhaps, than the ones you saw today. But tomorrow will be time enough. You have worked hard today."

It was hard not to feel that she was condescending to him. He wouldn't call it a hard day's work at all, even if he hadn't appreciated the long hike.

The beach turned out to be only a few minutes' walk away. When Challa confirmed that permission had been granted—Carson wasn't sure by whom—Kana walked with them until they could see a wall of rock rising beyond the trees. Sheppard gave them permission to go on ahead, but he and the others would follow.

"I should return," Kana said. "Our people are not used to guests; as you can imagine, some of our patients are very nervous...."

Carson nodded. "About being treated by a doctor from another planet."

She smiled, "But I wanted to be the one to show you our seashore."  
 Kana led them to a break in the cliffs that suddenly appeared beyond the trees. Carson and Teyla both stopped, amazed at the expanse of sand they could see beyond the narrow passage. "The birds are friendly," Kana told them as they finished coming through, pointing to some black bodies lining the shore. "You can walk right up to them, as long as you do not startled them; they do bite if they feel threatened." Then she apologized again for having to leave and disappeared back through the cliff, promising to be certain the rest of the team after them; "I am sure they will enjoy the beach too." She gave them a proud smile.as they gawked.

Carson saw plenty of water every day, but he hadn't seen a beach like this in ages. They stepped onto the sand. "I can't believe all this time they had a perfectly good landing site that they never told us about! I mean, we could have taken a Jumper and just walked fifteen bloody minutes to the village instead of over ninety!"

Teyla sighed. "I would have preferred a shorter walk as well." She gave him a pointed look.

Carson grimaced. "Sorry about that. My mouth runs away with me occasionally."

Her burst of laughter startled him. Teyla put her hand to her mouth. "I am sorry. That was—"

Carson had to laugh himself. "That was totally justified, I suppose."

Instead of agreeing, Teyla replied, "It is good to have Doctor McKay with us on missions again."

Rodney had only been back with them for a couple of brief missions since Sheppard's bullet had confined him to Atlantis for weeks.

Carson shivered in the heat. His friends had one close call after another. If Rodney or Ronon had been more seriously injured—or if Sheppard hadn't managed to find Carson in time.... Carson had taken Kagan and run, thinking Rodney was trying to interfere with the treatment of his surviving patient. Once he'd come to himself, when Rodney had shut the damned machine off, he knew Rodney had only been helping. But by then he couldn't find his way back without help. Thank God Sheppard had found hims quickly. Things could have been far worse, and they were bad enough as it was.

"Rodney and Ronon are right as rain," he said reassuringly. And Barroso's death wasn't just his fault, but a combination of Wraith malice and Genii weaponry.

Teyla looked at him suddenly. "And you?"

Carson nodded cautiously. "It was hell," he said simply. "But it's over." He shrugged at her continued scrutiny. "Colonel Sheppard?" he asked, knowing Teyla had more opportunities to observe the man than he had.

"He does not speak of it," Teyla answered with what might have been a sigh, and Carson wasn't sure if it was at the colonel, or at the view before them.

They had left the shelter of the cliffs, and before them stretched a white sand beach. Cliffs cut it off to their right and to their left, making the sparkling surface all the more astonishing. Beyond the beach was an expanse of blue water that shaded eventually into sky; he wasn't even certain where one ended and the other began. The area by the water was teeming with large birds.

Carson finally said, in hushed tones, "I don't know whether to be furious with them for not telling us so that we could come in a Jumper, or glad we're not getting a chance to ruin the area."

Teyla looked at him quizzically.

"On Earth," he explained, "we've ruined tens of thousands of kilometers of shoreline by building on it, polluting, making artificial reefs and seawalls...."

Teyla looked back at the beach, nodding. "I for one am glad they have preserved it. It is worth the walk; do you not agree?"

Carson was surprised to find that he did. Maybe later he could take off his boots. He'd really like to feel the sand between his toes. Some distance out he could make out a couple of figures—surfing?

A few steps later, he focused on the birds. "Oh, look at them! Is that—my God!" he gasped. "I've never seen one up close!"

"What are they?" Teyla asked.

"Penguins! They live in the Antarctic—where the Ancient base was, on Earth, but they didn't come near the base. I saw some from helicopters, but they were far away. Here we can walk right up to them!"

The queer thing was that the closer they got, the bigger the birds looked; they weren't as far away as Carson had thought. He had seen them at zoos and on television. He didn't remember them being so big. 

"And what is special about these birds?" Teyla looked quizzically down the beach as she walked.

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose it's that they're so rare, at least for most of us. They only live near the south pole on Earth. And they look, well, cute. They look like they're in formal dress." He thought of trying to explain tuxedos to Teyla and decided to give it a miss. 

These were awfully big penguins. They were still some distance away, but they looked like the biggest penguins he had ever seen. And those beaks looked abnormally long. The birds had seen the newcomers, and several were waddling in their direction quite fast.

"They don't really look quite like Earth penguins, though." He slowed down, and Teyla slowed with him. "They look...bigger."

"Did you not say that you had never been close to a penguin?"

"Well, I've seen them in exhibits too. I'm sure they weren't...." He stopped dead as two of the penguins came quite close. "They weren't this big," Carson said, taking a step backwards, and then another.

"But Kana said they are harmless! They seem friendly!" Teyla smiled at him and turned back to the penguins.

Carson felt torn between not wanting to look stupid in front of Teyla and wanting to bolt all the way back up the beach. Those birds must be well over four feet tall! Teyla was a warrior. Carson was a doctor. No one should think badly of him if he wasn't eager to meet with large new...waterfowl.

"Oh, my God," Carson breathed. 

The closer penguin was coming very near Teyla indeed, and it looked to be nearly her height. The beak had to be a foot long, and it looked sharper than Carson could remember penguins' beaks looking. Not that he ever paid that much attention to penguins.

Carson took a few more steps backwards. Teyla looked back at him and laughed. "They are just birds, Doctor!" she said.

And that beak was aimed right for Teyla's neck—Carson took a few steps forward again as the lead penguin came to a halt a little in front of Teyla, unsure he could do anything to protect her, but not wanting to be too far away if the thing did attack.

"Good Lord!" Carson breathed. "Earth penguins aren't this big. I'm sure of it!"

Teyla laughed again softly, obviously not wanting to frighten their new friends. The second penguin joined the first. Carson came slowly and cautiously forward to stand next to—well, just a little behind—Teyla.

"They are handsome birds," Teyla breathed.

"Aye," Carson had to agree. "But they're...."

"They are indeed quite large." 

Carson looked around and realized that now rather a lot of penguins seemed to be converging on their position. "You might want to step back, love," he told her, tapping her arm gently.

"They are just being friendly." She stepped forward instead.

Carson gritted his teeth. He was surrounded by birds with beaks that looked very sharp indeed, and they could certainly reach his jugular. The tallest seemed to be about Teyla's height. But if she wasn't afraid, he wasn't, he told himself.

"You do not need to prove yourself to me," Teyla chuckled.

"That obvious?" Carson asked in dismay.

"Many of your people seem to be afraid of animals." Teyla was still amused.

"Have you ever seen anyone kicked by a horse?" Carson asked. "I have. And I've seen someone whose horse landed on her." He shook his head at the memory. "She was lucky to live. She had internal injuries." 

Teyla looked surprised. "I thought your horses were domesticated." 

Carson nodded. The surprising thing, really, wasn't what Teyla didn't know about Earth; it was how much she had picked up from her friends on Atlantis. "Most of them are, and that's why people can ride them. But if an animal that large lashes out, even if it doesn't mean to hurt, it can injure quite badly. And if one lands on you—imagine a creature that weighs four or five times what Ronon weighs, dear."

"These seem harmless," Teyla said, but she did not advance further.

"As long as they don't fall on you, yes." Carson tried to relax. "Still, it might be best not to touch. Did Kana say they bite?"

The humans and the birds stared at each other in silence for a few minutes. The birds seemed to be looking for something. Food? Very odd. He found himself relaxing as the birds lost interest and began to drift away.

"They are wondrous," Teyla said with a sigh. "We should show the others!"

As they walked back up the beach to the narrow break in the rocks, the germ of an idea formed in Carson's mind. A rather wicked idea. It really wasn't fair. He'd already been difficult with Colonel Sheppard. Of course, Rodney had been difficult for everyone. 

Teyla said, "You were so surprised at the size of the birds; we should warn...." Carson could hear the moment when Teyla had the same idea. He felt guilty. It wasn't fair. But it would be bloody funny to see Rodney as taken aback as he was.

A few minutes later, Carson and Teyla were back on the outskirts of the settlement.

"Now we must make sure Colonel Sheppard doesn't arrive before Rodney does, and Ronon—well, it would be better if he weren't even here. He tends to take the lead," Carson said in a low voice to Teyla, not sure how far their teammates were. "If you can find a way to make sure he brings up the rear instead...."

Teyla swallowed a giggle. "It seems wrong of you to do this to your...partner in crime?"

Carson looked at her sharply.

"You knew perfectly well what John meant about wines," she said, trying to sound stern. "Both of you. I heard you afterwards."

"Blast!" He had been sure no one was around when he and Rodney snickered about the Napa Valley exchange after lunch, while John and Ronon were still talking with the leader and Carson was waiting for Challa. He couldn't remember where Teyla had been, and obviously she had been too close.

Teyla smiled. "The colonel, however, did not hear you. Nor will I tell him that Rodney is planning to insult California wines until he smuggles some to Atlantis for him—and you."

Carson smiled back. "We'd be most grateful."

"You will share your wine with me," Teyla ordered. "I would like to taste some as well."

"I think that can be arranged." 

They schooled their faces. Moments later, they could see the rest of the team approaching, Sheppard and Rodney arguing.

"Oh, Rodney?" Carson sang out. "You really must see the beach here!"

Rodney called back, "Oh, thank God! Carson, tell me you've found something really worth seeing. I mean, we see water every day."

Sheppard swatted his arm—too much information. Carson had to watch himself constantly not to refer to Atlantis in front of people, although their occupation of the city had probably become an open secret again. Especially since he'd brought Lucius there.

"We have," Carson said. Teyla nodded, not too vigorously, as they walked up.

"We have found birds," she told them. "I believe you call them penguins."

"Penguins? Huh. I'd have thought it's too hot," Rodney replied. 

John smiled, clearly also welcoming a break. "You know, I think they have penguins in New Zealand. And South Africa. But here? The real thing?"

"Well," said Carson, shaking his head a little, "not exactly the same. The beak looks a bit different to me. But I'm no expert."

"I've never seen penguins up close," Rodney said.

"That is almost exactly what Doctor Beckett said," Teyla told him with a straight face. "He said you had seen some in...Antarctica? But from some distance."

"From a helicopter," Carson agreed.

"You looked down? I thought you had your eyes closed the whole time." Rodney smirked at Carson. 

What little compunction Carson might have had about this trick evaporated. " _Maybe_ the first time," Carson told him.

Rodney continued to tease, and Carson grumbled back while he and Teyla led the way through the rocks. Ronon, fortunately, took the rear of his own accord, watching around them constantly.

Carson was quite startled to emerge through the break and find two penguins barely five meters away; they must have followed him and Teyla when they left. He stopped dead while Teyla took a few more steps around him. 

Rodney's scream and John's "holy shit!" came out at the same time. The birds froze and raised their wings. Was that a defensive posture? 

Carson took a step back. Then he turned around. Rodney had disappeared, and Sheppard had his weapon raised.

"Rodney?" Carson took a couple of steps to find Rodney flattened up against the rocks, obviously hiding from the birds. He could feel his mouth breaking into a grin but couldn't quite stop it.

Ronon burst past them, gun aimed at the beach. The penguins started back warily. These birds weren't dumb, Carson thought.

"Heard McKay scream," Ronon explained. "Everyone okay?"

"It was not a scream!" Rodney hollered. The birds froze. "It was a yell, just like yours!" 

"A very piercing yell," Sheppard said, sticking a finger in his ear. He pulled out the finger and examined it.

"Eew!" Rodney looked at the Colonel with great disgust. 

Ronon lowered his weapon.

"Colonel, I don't think that's even the ear that you had towards Rodney when he...yelled," Carson told him, winning glares from Rodney and Sheppard. 

"You did that on purpose!" Rodney stabbed an accusing finger into Carson's chest. "You knew I would—yell!" 

"Settle down," Sheppard said. He lowered the weapon he'd brought up at once; the birds seemed to be calmer. More were heading their way. Curious about the noise? Defensive? Carson couldn't tell. He didn't know much about birds.

"They are harmless." Teyla smiled innocently.

"I don't know about harmless," Sheppard muttered.

Carson was a little surprised John wasn't ribbing Rodney unmercifully, but the colonel seemed more interested in the birds.

Examining them, the pilot said, "Just like—you know, they just found the bones of these things on Earth? In Peru, I think. I wonder if the Ancients—"

"What are you talking about?" Rodney had gotten curious enough to peel himself off the rocks, but he kept Carson between him and the birds.

"They found bones of very large penguins in Peru," Sheppard said slowly. "And they had really long beaks. Forty million years old, I think they said."

"How come I never heard about this?" Rodney looked miffed.

"Do you read the news in the databursts?"

"I don't have time for that! I can't even keep up with the journals! Of course, half the stuff in the journals now, we're disproving, but I can't publish...."

Sheppard added over Rodney's words, "Yeah, they found these remains in the last few months, I think. I just read about it in the latest burst from the SGC."

"I'm going to kill you," Rodney hissed to Carson as he stepped past, "in your sleep." Then he approached a penguin cautiously, staying just out of beak range. 

The penguins were soon nearly surrounding them. Ronon towered over the birds, but once he lowered his weapon, they waddled over to him, too. Were they smelling the humans? 

John reached out and touched one as Rodney nervously told him, "Those beaks look really scary, Colonel."

John gently rubbed a...shoulder? "Oily," he said, wiping his hands on his trousers. 

"Well, yeah; they need to keep body heat in the water," Rodney suggested.

The colonel grinned and indicated the water with his chin. "Look at those waves. Man, I gotta catch some of that." He pointed at a couple of people a little way down the beach with what seemed to be surf boards. "Trouble with the city is, no surf!" He spoke quietly.

Rodney huffed. "You know, Sheppard, we have limited time on this planet, and I for one am finding the radiation readings—"

"Now that Teyla and Carson are done, maybe they can help you?" Sheppard started working his way through the penguins in the direction of the surfers.

"Oh, we're hardly done!" Carson replied. "I'll have to see how my patients—I mean, the patients I saw today—are getting on with our drugs. We've been very lucky so far, not seeing adverse reactions in the peoples of the Pegasus—"

Rodney waved a hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn to Carson. "Not interested in medical details," he said flatly. Then he suddenly did turn. "Unless you've seen anyone with, say, radiation poisoning?" 

Carson frowned. "You were insisting the levels weren't dangerous!"

"Yeah, well, they don't look dangerous, but there may be higher levels in some locations." 

"Does Colonel Sheppard know—"

"That we could be looking at another Genii? Of course!" Rodney interrupted Teyla's question, but he spoke in a low tone. 

"They said dinner would be soon," Rodney said. "Can we just leave Sheppard?" The colonel had nearly reached the surfers. "He's not gonna do that in what he's wearing now, is he?" Before anyone could answer, he returned to his previous topic. "I'm less convinced the radiation is background now. It seemed to get stronger north of the village. 

"I wish I'd had my scanner out our whole way in. Sheppard says we'll do more tomorrow—assuming we're staying." Rodney looked around suspiciously. "You know, though, if they're concealing advanced technology, they could be listening in on us at any time."

"Yeah. Maybe the birds are bugged," Ronon said with a grin.

Rodney glared at the one penguin which lingered nearby. "Move along, move along!" He flapped his hands at the bird. The bird stepped closer to see what he was doing. "No, no!" He made pushing gestures with his hands. The penguin stared at him.

Carson sighed. "Do we need to be wearing dosimeters?"

"No." Rodney left off glaring at the penguin for the moment. "The amounts are still pretty low. The scanner's sufficient to tell us if we're entering a dangerous area—and believe me, you'll be the second one to know if that happens. I'm trying to get them to let me bring a Jumper through."

The last penguin studying them gave up and waddled back towards the water.

"What levels are we talking about?" Carson asked. Rodney could be incredibly concerned about the most minor health matters and blithely disregard serious ones. Worse, because Rodney knew at some level that he was a hypochondriac, he would brush off Carson's concerns by saying that if he wasn't worried, no one should be. He was the most frustrating patient Carson had ever had, and on this expedition, that was saying something.

"Oh, far less than we were exposed to when we flew a Jumper into the coronasphere of a sun!"

"But increasing as you go in a particular direction?" 

"Well, slightly, but we're talking small amounts. I mean, I checked my notes from our first visit before we came back, and my first readings when we came here a few years ago were about 7 millisieverts, near the Gate. Higher background radiation than we'd find on Earth, but nothing really to worry about. But I started readings again at the village, and they were definitely higher—over ten millisieverts. And when Sheppard decided we needed to go back, we were at about 31."

"That's a huge increase!" Carson exclaimed. "That can't be natural."

"No," Rodney said bluntly. "If we'd changed elevations significantly I might believe it, but it's such a short distance, I find it hard to believe even naturally occurring uranium could account for it."

"Are we in danger?" Teyla asked. She and Ronon were both frowning, and Carson realized they probably didn't have enough information to follow the whole conversation.

Rodney sighed audibly.

"Not from the radiation, no," Carson answered before Rodney could say something unkind. "At least, not unless we suddenly get a lot closer—"

"—like entering a bunker or having nuclear weapons used on us," Rodney put in.

"No," Carson said with a glare. "What's more disturbing is that they're obviously keeping something from us. They aren't the simple, untechnological people they're pretending to be."

Teyla was still frowning. "Perhaps it is a misunderstanding. When my people and your people first me, _you_ thought we were 'backwards,'" she said, the last aimed at Rodney. She crossed her arms. She doubtless still remembered Rodney's ill-advised words in the briefing yesterday.

"You _are_ backwards," Rodney said, rushing in where angels feared to tread. "You have some technology, but—"

"But you thought we had none because of the lives we lead." Teyla's tone was fairly neutral, but Carson was glad not to be in Rodney's shoes right now.

Ronon nodded down the beach. "Sheppard's coming back. Maybe we should wait for him?"

Carson turned to look. The colonel wasn't far. "You have just enough time to apologize to Teyla for calling her people backwards, Rodney," he said with a smile.

"Hey, I—" Teyla was glaring at Rodney. "I mean, by our standards—"

"By the Ancestors' standards, _you_ are backwards," Teyla told him.

"Oh. Um, actually, you have a point. Although our standards sometimes involve a few more safety protocols and warnings and manuals—"

"Colonel," said Carson with relief. Teyla had received as much of an apology from Rodney as she was going to get. "We've been discussing Rodney's radiation readings."

"Oh. Good." Sheppard grinned. "So everyone's on the same page now?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "No, everyone is not even in the same _book_."

"Yes," Carson answered.

"Good," John repeated. "So I figure we stay overnight as planned, you finish up tomorrow, if that's all right?" Carson nodded. Colonel Sheppard really did seem to want his opinion, despite all his blunders in recent months, and he greatly appreciated that. "We'll poke around some more and see if we can get a better idea of what we're dealing with. But if anything goes sideways, we're outta here."

"Okay! Let's get dinner, then!" Rodney smiled and turned.

"And tomorrow morning, _before_ we do the readings, I'm going surfing!" Sheppard announced triumphantly as they started back .

Dinner was another group affair under the big pavilion, but Rodney hissed in Carson's ear as they entered that they'd seen a lot more huts on his long walk than the people here could represent. "They're not showing us how many people they've got!" 

"Would you?" Carson asked in an undertone.

Kana appeared and asked Carson to sit with her and Challa, and soon the rest of the group seemed to have companions as well. They weren't divided by any great distance, but they had no real opportunity to talk to each other.

Several dishes were passed from person to person, and every time another one started around, Rodney would call over, "Carson! Citrus?" and hold up the bowl.

He really needed to finish programming the portable scanners to detect citrus. It wasn't fair to Rodney (not that Rodney was fair to the medical staff). He'd managed to get one of the scanners in the infirmary to recognize the allergen, and all new foods were tested there before being sent to Atlantis's kitchen, but he'd really meant to rig something that Rodney could just take with him. He should enlist Rodney's own help to get it done.

As it was, his conversations with Kana and Challa were punctuated by shouting back and forth--mostly "no," but on one item, he had to say, "Don't know; safer not to"—and Rodney pushed the bowl away with such speed it nearly ended up in some poor woman's lap. 

He could understand the healers' eagerness to learn new treatments, especially natural ones involving flora perhaps present on their planet, but he did wonder about other possible motives. "Perhaps you've picked my brain enough now that I might have a go at yours?" he asked with a smile.

Challa looked horrified.

"It's an expression," he explained quickly.

Kana patted Challa's arm gently and laughed. "I don't know that we have much to teach you, but...."

"Oh, but you seem to have so few patients! How do you keep your people in general so healthy? I don't see any mosquito netting, for instance; why do so few have malaria?"

Challa answered that question eagerly. "When the mosquitoes are bad, we go in our huts before sunset." Right now, it looked like they had an hour or so before sunset still. "The leaves that cover the doors do a fine job of keeping mosquitoes out! Right now, the torches burning around the edges of our pavilion give off a scent that draws the mosquitoes—and burns them. We do not lose enough to upset the natural balance, but they do not bite us." Carson was amazed. He'd noticed an odd scent as they'd lit the torches, but he'd thought nothing of it. "And some lotions help to keep the mosquitoes away from the body, but they are...unpleasant."

"They stink," Kana said bluntly. "The most effective involves concentrated urine from the jamachi you saw on the beach."

"Oh, the penguins?" Carson smiled. "We have birds like that on my world. They're a lot smaller, though. We were pretty surprised when we found out how big these fellas were."

"Some are bigger than Kana!" Challa grinned. Kana gave him a look that would peel paint. He didn't notice.

"And they come right up to you!" 

Challa's grin was replaced by a look of astonishment. "They—even you? I didn't realize they would do that to strangers."

Kana didn't seem surprised, however. "They are friendly creatures. I doubt they notice the difference between you and us." She ate another bite and then seemed to think of something. "They didn't bother you, did they? They can bite, if one annoys them."

Carson shuddered theatrically, hoping it hid his actual fear of the huge birds. "With those beaks?"

Challa laughed. "It just leaves a bruise." 

Kana tilted her head towards Challa. "It's quite survivable. He's living proof. Always playing with them when he was young." She leaned towards Carson and whispered, "Still does."

Now Challa looked annoyed.

The dynamic between the two of them suddenly seemed familiar. "Are you two related?" he asked before stopping to wonder whether might be a rude question.

Kana laughed and then pretended to look horrified. "You can tell? I had hoped not! Yes, he's my young cousin."

Challa rolled his eyes when she said "young cousin." "Did you ever think maybe I would prefer not to be judged always as your relation? Your _younger_ relation?" He seemed genuinely miffed, though he remained polite.

Kana's eyebrows went up and down quickly. She bent towards her food a little.

Carson felt awkward. "So how much harm does the birds' bite do?" 

Challa proudly extended an arm over the table for Carson to examine. "That's the worst bite anyone has ever gotten, isn't it, Kana?" A faint scar remained on his forearm. It didn't look bad.

"It wouldn't have scarred if you hadn't hidden it from us," Kana replied. "They don't usually scar," she told Carson earnestly. "Adults are virtually never bitten. It's children who make them angry; they don't know when to leave them alone. The jamachi have very even tempers." She smiled at her cousin.

Rodney was just close enough to be listening in to their conversation, it turned out. "Yeah. Hey, do you cook them?"

All the Jaqui around them turned towards Rodney. 

"To eat? I mean, there's gotta be a lot of meat...."

Even a man with the social skills of Rodney McKay could realize the looks he was getting were changing from baffled to horrified.

"Um, maybe I shouldn't have said that. See, uh—help me out here, Carson."

Challa seemed as eager to help Rodney out as anyone. "We eat fish. We eat many plants. But we do not each jamachi!"

"Huh. Religious prohibition?"

Kana seized on Rodney's words at once. "Yes," she said with relief. "I think it would be...an abuse of the Mother's gifts to eat such magnificent creatures. We only eat lower lifeforms. _Much_ lower lifeforms," she said with finality.

Carson was happy to move to a different topic. "If I might ask, could you tell me a bit about your religion? We've encountered a number of different beliefs...on our travels."

Kana was happy to oblige, and soon Carson had more information than he knew what to do with. He wished one of the anthropologists were here. He was sure he wouldn't remember it all. He thought of Daniel Jackson, eagerly telling him more than he ever thought he needed to know about the Ancients. He wished Doctor Jackson were here now. And not only because he had discovered over the past three years that they needed to know a lot more about the Ancients than they actually did. 

Daniel Jackson would no doubt have followed the conversation much more easily. Kana kept referring to the Mother, the Father, and sometimes the Mother-Father, until Carson had to ask for clarification. Their concept seemed something like the Christian Trinity, but with two instead of three. He wasn't familiar enough with other religions to work out any better analogy. They believed their planet had been given into their care, and they had to be good guardians, living in harmony with the rest of Creation. That sounded vaguely Buddhist. She went on to elaborate on how her vocation as a healer played a part in the greater scheme of things.

Kana spoke with warmth and intensity, and Carson found that even though he couldn't follow everything she said, he could see the sincerity of her convictions. Challa was smiling as if he had heard it all before and wasn't convinced, or at least he did not believe as fervently. Rodney was listening, and Carson could tell that he was holding his tongue. He'd have to thank Rodney later, let him know that his efforts had been noticed and appreciated. He was surprised that Rodney was even paying attention.

"And you? What do you believe?"

The sudden question startled Carson. He'd been quite happy listening. "Well, where I come from we have many different beliefs," he hedged.

"Tell them about Christianity, Carson," Rodney called over. At first Carson thought it was just to give Rodney more ammunition; he'd learned even before he left Earth never to discuss religion with the man. But Rodney seemed genuinely interested in the conversation, or at least he wasn't being obvious about his disdain for once.

"I'm no expert," Carson protested, but then he found himself laying out the basic points of the faith. He felt a little guilty, since he wasn't particularly religious and had his own doubts, but Kana was very curious and kept asking questions, and sometimes offer comparisons to her own faith. He didn't know the answers to some of her queries.

At last Kana touched his arm. "Thank you," she said. "That is truly fascinating. But I fear I'm keeping you from eating, and we must finish soon; the sun will be setting very soon." 

Carson finished the food on the simple wooden plate before him. "Lovely," he said. "Best meal I've had in...a while." 

"Challa will show you to where you can sleep. We thought you might all want to be together, so we've arranged one hut. Your leader approved it."

The 'hut' was a little more sophisticated than Carson expected. The door was covered by a curtain of large leaves woven together. Five hammocks were strung in a circle, with one end at the wall and the other around the same central column that held up the ceiling of the main room. Another curtain of leaves led off the main room. The large room was lit by three small lanterns hanging on the wall.

Challa showed them how to lift the translucent covers off the lanterns when they wanted to blow them out. They were oil lamps.

"Oh, look! A potty!" Rodney had pushed aside one of the curtains. "It's a...pot," he said with some annoyance. "Like that one we had to use before."

"Hey, at least we don't have to dig a hole in the ground," the colonel said absently, inspecting the light blankets on each of the hammocks. "Nice," he said.

Challa explained the use of the pot before he left, an explanation they'd each received earlier in the day ("as if we could _hold it all day_ ," Rodney said) when toilets were needed.

"Wonder if this came from those alpacas?" the Colonel was now patting one of the blankets himself.

"They have alpacas?" Carson asked. "Wait—what exactly _is_ an alpaca? It's like a llama, isn't it?"

"It's more like a sheep with a really long neck," Rodney answered. Then he smirked. "We'll have to arrange for you to meet one of them."

Carson sighed. "I'm not Welsh, Rodney."

Even in the dim light, Carson could see confusion on Rodney's face. He hadn't been listening the last time Carson had said this either. "Sheep jokes usually involve the Welsh, Rodney. It would be like making redneck American jokes about Canadians."

Sheppard stage-whispered, "Doc, I think the Canadians have rednecks too."

Rodney glared at Sheppard briefly before returning to Carson. "Now you're telling me which ethnic groups to mock? Are doctors allowed to do that?"

"Only when you get it wrong!"

Sheppard ended the discussion by pulling off his boots, hopping into the hammock farthest from the loo, and asking, "So. What do we think?"

"Hey! I wanted that hammock!" McKay immediately headed to the other side of the room, and before Carson knew it, everyone had claimed a hammock, leaving him with the one nearest the toilet. Some noise came from the roof: it had begun to rain.

"I should know better than to travel with this team," Carson muttered. He sat on the last empty hammock and began untying his boots. 

"Hey!" said Rodney. "We're the best team on Atlantis! We—"

"Have the highest number of infirmary visits. Have the highest _rate_ of infirmary visits per mission." Carson had figured the statistics for moments just such as these. "Have the highest rate of medical problems _after_ leaving the infirmary." He didn't say out loud, "highest rate of medical personnel who want to do them further bodily harm."

"Whose fault is that?" Rodney shot back. "It's not _our_ fault if you quacks release us too soon."

"I didn't say 'after being released from the infirmary,' I said 'after _leaving_ the infirmary.' That includes times one of you failed to mention a problem while in the infirmary as well as times you left against medical advice and times you were released but failed to follow instructions!"

"Ooh. Let's get back to the matter at hand." At least Colonel Sheppard had some sense. If only he exercised it more when he was actually a patient! "So what's going on here?"

Rodney immediately answered, "Well, they say they have no advanced technology, but Mister Geiger Counter begs to differ. They have a religion, but they're not at all surprised to hear about other beliefs, and they're even curious about other beliefs; now _that's_ something you don't see every day. Even if they do still think some divine being is personally concerned with their individual welfare but, shockingly, never intervenes when the Wraith come around." That was more like Rodney's usual response to religion.

"Their cosmology includes a heliocentric solar system, and nothing they've said rules out evolution, although I gotta say, the animals seem so much like Earth's that I wouldn't be surprised if the Ancients transported or cloned the larger animals here. Larger animals, in fact, are their _friends_ ; they don't seem to eat the big ones, though—"

"I think they're what we would call ovo-lacto-pesco," Carson threw in helpfully, but Rodney failed to appreciate his contribution.

"And some of their clothes seem to use some skins and feathers," Rodney continued, louder, "but they were horrified when I asked if they ate the penguins. These people are so environmentally careful they make Greenpeace look like Union Carbide. They know more science than they're letting on." 

Rodney looked at Carson and started talking even faster, his annoyance at being interrupted already forgotten. "You should _see_ their water purification system. We passed by one of their reservoirs on our _very long walk_ this afternoon. All natural: they use sunlight, but they're obviously aware of microbes and the harm they can do, despite not having anything resembling a microscope—that they've shown us. They have an aqueduct system that would put the Romans to shame, but they prefer to use baked mud rather than rock. 

"I think they're concealing something. I think they're concealing a lot, in fact. They've deliberately designed everything to look like they have no science and technology, but they're using natural materials in highly sophisticated ways. Carson? What'd you see?"

Carson was absolutely stunned. He'd wondered at Rodney's interest in Kana's explanation of their beliefs. He knew the scientist wasn't as oblivious to people as he sometimes seemed, but he had had no idea Rodney was so observant—and not just of science, but of _people_.

None of Rodney's teammates seemed at all surprised, so they must see this side of him more often. Now, of course, they were all looking at Carson. 

"Today they asked me to treat relatively minor problems," Carson said lamely. "Most of the infections I treated are so recent they clearly didn't motivate the request for help. The patients I treated today were a test. I'm not sure of what. They watched me quite closely, and then they said at the end that they had others to show me tomorrow. Now that I think about it, they weren't at all fazed when I talked about synthesizing compounds; I tried to make it simpler for them, but they didn't ask me to do that. Oh, and their response to malaria includes a variety of natural measures; they kill some mosquitoes but are explicitly _not_ trying to eradicate them, which strikes me as unusual." And the damned things had been biting him off and on all day, so that he almost wished they _were_ eradicating them, but really, they'd chosen the better part.

He continued, with a conscious effort not to scratch, "They have quinine and some modest antibiotics, but if they have more sophisticated antimalarials or other drugs, they're not letting on." He frowned and added, "In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think none of the ailments I saw predated their request for medical help. Whatever they it is they want me to treat, they haven't shown me yet."

Sheppard nodded. "Ronon?"

"They had four guys following us besides our guide." Ronon didn't look disturbed at all by that idea, but it gave Carson a little shiver.

"What? I never saw them!" Rodney's voice squeaked a little. Apparently Carson wasn't alone in his reaction.

"You weren't supposed to," Sheppard answered.

"Then how come you did?"

"Because I _am_ supposed to," Sheppard replied, and Ronon nodded. "They just watched us, like they were afraid we were gonna jump their guide or something."

"Or wander into areas we shouldn't?" Rodney asked pointedly.

"You were leading the way; you tell me," Sheppard told him.

Rodney frowned. "He didn't even stop me from walking into that...."

"Alpaca poop?" Sheppard grinned.

Rodney snorted. " _You_ didn't stop me _either_!"

"You should be looking where you're going, not just at the Life Signs Detector! But we're getting off point here. Ronon?"

"They say they prefer wooden weapons to metal ones," the huge man said. "They have some pretty slick weapons—for sport. Can't imagine they'd do a damn bit of good against the Wraith. But they'd sure help if the local wildlife got out of hand."

"Penguins and alpacas?" Rodney asked.

"They have big cats, too," Sheppard said.

"When did you learn that?" Rodney demanded.

"When you were arguing with the locals about how much water they could treat in a day. Didn't you wonder why our guide carried a crossbow and arrows?"

"Oh. I thought that was in case we 'got out of hand'," Rodney answered dismissively.

Ronon nodded. "Be great for taking out animals, but nothing wearing armor."

"I bet it would still hurt," Carson muttered. Then he thought about how little they really knew about these people. "Rodney? How strong are these tactical vests we wear?"

"Oh, they'd hold up fine against arrows," Rodney said dismissively. "I mean, they were designed to protect against staff blasts! So unless they're using something really unusual as arrowheads...." He faltered, looking quickly at the colonel. "They wouldn't—I mean, if they were using any special materials, I should have detected—"

"You'd have detected _dental_ fillings, Rodney, with all the scans you did. I'm sure they're just your standard, primi—" He broke off.

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Teyla might have been glaring at the colonel.

"You said they _prefer_ wood to metal?" Sheppard asked, turning to Ronon.

"Yeah. Mining and refining's more trouble than it's worth, they told me."

"Bloody hell," breathed Carson. "That doesn't sound very likely. They've got metal at the hospital. Not a lot of it, but I saw a few instruments. Metal's best for medical instruments," he explained. "Easier to disinfect than many other substances."

"So they work metal, but they _prefer_ not to," Rodney snorted. "I'm with Carson," he said, waving in Carson's direction. "That doesn't sound very likely."

The rain on the roof sounded heavier; they were starting to raise their voices.

"I think I'm glad we have an indoor toilet," Rodney said.

"They wear little or no metal," Teyla pointed out. "Their clothes, their ornaments: plant fibers, for the most part. This animal substance"—she fingered the blanket—"is something like wool. No need to kill the animals. They are indeed careful stewards of their planet."

"What else did you notice, Teyla?"

"Challa seemed very nervous whenever Doctor Beckett asked him questions. Kana, however, never seemed nervous. The contrast was so great that I suspect Kana made an effort not to appear concerned."

Carson nodded. "Aye. I hadn't thought of it quite like that. Of course, it turns out they're related. He's her 'younger cousin.'" He made quotation marks in the air like the Americans did. "He was resentful when she mentioned it; they seem to get along, but he doesn't like being known just as her relation."

"She seems to be a person of great influence in the village," Teyla added.

"So: cousin rivalry, or keeping secrets?" Sheppard asked.

"Both," Ronon said.

Rodney climbed out of his hammock and took a lantern carefully off the hook. "Oil. Some kind of vegetable oil, I think," he said, sniffing. "Horn or something similar protecting it. No metal." He lifted the horn off to examine the base. "Pottery," he said. "Rather _fine_ pottery, if you ask me."

"Didn't know you were a connoisseur of pottery," Sheppard said. "We should probably keep one of those burning all night so that we can find the bathroom."

Carson hopped down himself and walked over to a small table. "Basins of water," he said; they were pottery too. "And a bit of soap?" He smelled it. "Smells...floral." He smelled it again. Was that a hint of...? "You haven't told them about your citrus allergies?" he asked Rodney.

"My God! They're trying to kill me!" Rodney backed all the way up to the wall.

"It was clear enough at dinner," Carson corrected himself. "Probably no one thought about the soaps."

"Thank God we have you," Sheppard said. He was already horizontal in his hammock.

"Was that sarcasm?" Rodney snapped. "I could have—"

"Soap is on the right side of the right-hand basin," Carson said, moving all three small pieces there. They felt pleasant in his hand, little balls of soap of the sort fancy hotels and nice bed-and-breakfasts had. Not like the military dispensed. "If you use soap, rinse it in the right-hand basin. Left-hand basin will be a citrus-free zone." He moved that basin as far as he could from the other on the little wicker table. He put one of the soft towels on the left side of the basins, and left the others piled on the right.

"Thank you." Somehow Rodney managed not to sound grateful. "Don't anybody get confused in the night! God, how am I ever gonna sleep?" 

"I've been wondering that myself." Carson splashed some water over his face. He rinsed his hands thoroughly in the right-hand basin to rid himself of any traces of the soap. He'd used his own hand sanitizer at the hospital and hadn't checked the soap there. He hoped they'd get through this mission without Rodney suffering any medical problems.

"Let me check the toilet in case they've got anything in there to kill odors. I've been wondering about those since I first used one earlier today." The toilets really didn't smell, and he wasn't sure why.

He grabbed his medical scanner and a flashlight as a nervous voice from across the room said, "But I've already been used one!"

"And you still seem to be breathing," he called as he let the curtain of leaves fall behind him.

A few minutes later, he emerged with news: "They've got a fascinating mix of microbes in the pot. They break down human waste. I'll have to ask for details in the morning."

"Oh, please _don't_ ," Rodney said. "Or at least wait until I'm not around."

Carson rolled his eyes, although he was afraid the effect was lost in the shadows. "This confirms what Rodney has been saying: these people are going to great lengths to do everything naturally, but there's a great deal of science behind it. And I will not be letting them get away with that 'our medicines are so inferior to yours' nonsense tomorrow."

Sheppard snorted. "We sing, we dance; we are a simple people, Sahib." Carson was sure there was a reference he was supposed to be getting here, but he wasn't. Rodney was staring at the Colonel as if he was crazy, but Rodney often did that.

After a long pause, Sheppard said, "Doesn't anybody here read _Doonesbury_?"

Teyla took the opportunity to announce that she was going to the toilet, and preparations for the night began.

*****

Sheppard told Teyla to wake him during her watch, the final one, and, to his surprise, Ronon indicated that she should wake him too. He actually fit better in this hammock here in Lilliput than he did on his bed on Atlantis, although it wasn't hard to beat that little bed in his quarters. He wondered if all the people slept in such ample hammocks, or if the Jaqui simply realized the Lanteans were taller than they were. He'd wondered for a while now if the original Lanteans were short. Maybe their designers were all like Frank Lloyd Wright: bitter short people trying to weed out the tall ones. 

Despite the nice hammock, he slept lightly, waking when the rain slackened and again when it stopped, when Rodney muttered something in his sleep and later when Carson started tossing in his hammock. John never slept well off-world. It wasn't that he didn't trust his team to watch; he trusted them completely. At least consciously. Something in him just didn't want to let go and fall into a deep sleep in the field. He got along just fine anyway.

It was still full dark when Teyla signaled him it was time and woke Ronon up. Beckett started as John passed his hammock on the way to the toilet, but he had already fallen asleep again when he came back out. McKay didn't stir. How could he sleep like that?

Teyla must have read his mind, or his face, or the fact that he managed to bump Rodney's hammock as he grabbed some clothes, because she hissed to him as they left the hut, "You have told me before that protecting the civilians is a significant part of our duties."

John lowered his head guiltily, but Ronon just snorted: "You can say that again."

Teyla crossed her arms over her chest. "Considering how many sleepless nights they have had of late, and _why_ they have those sleepless nights, we should be grateful they have an opportunity for a little extra sleep. _I_ am." She stepped back inside.

"Yeah, uh, we'll be back before too long," Sheppard whispered to the leaves as they stilled behind her. He was still a little surprised about McKay, and, well, maybe a little concerned. He didn't imagine getting shot by the leader of his team helped McKay sleep better at night. Maybe at first, with the drugs, but he knew the recovery hadn't been exactly a breeze. But Beckett had assured him two weeks earlier that Rodney was good as new, or as good as he had been before that damned mission.

Ronon shrugged in the dim pre-dawn light. "I wasn't sure Beckett would sleep at all, considering."

John had to agree. Yesterday's walk had been tiring but not exhausting, so Beckett must feel reasonably secure to be able to sleep. Not truly phobic, then. That was good. He shouldn't go borrowing trouble.

McKay had shown before that he could sleep anywhere, and, on balance, John was glad to know he could still do it. 

Ronon had never surfed before, but he was game; John knew the Satedan was a quick learner with better reflexes and balance than John could ever hope to have, so he figured the big man would pick it up pretty quickly, despite his high center of gravity.

Taban met them as agreed, and the two men stripped off their outer clothes and boots while Taban eyed their clothing with amusement. Yeah, all they had was briefs, or John had briefs, and Ronon whatever he called that piece of underwear. Was that _leather_? He couldn't tell, and he didn't want to look _too_ closely. He should probably just be glad the man didn't go commando, which he hadn't thought of till now.

"We didn't pack our swimming trunks," Sheppard told Taban, who grinned though he probably didn't know exactly what Sheppard meant. He wasn't sure if what Taban's own little Speedo was made of.

The eastern sky had been lightening, and suddenly a red crescent appeared over the horizon. "Wow," John breathed.

Taban grinned and showed them the boards he had brought for them.

John had hardly surfed in years, and Taban quickly took over the job of teaching Ronon while Sheppard got used to the feel of the heavy wood board and the ocean. Damn, but it felt good—even if he wasn't as sharp as he used to be. The penguins watched with curiosity and sometimes swam out and back with him.

Taban told him later on the beach, "The jamachi are quite friendly. We have trained them to come to us when summoned, and even when not, they often approach to see if we have fish."

"Why tame them?" Sheppard asked. Rodney talked last night like they were the Green Party, but surely the best thing for the birds wasn't codependence on the humans. Especially when the humans might be picked off by life-sucking alien vampires.

"We have done it for generations now," Taban said with a shrug, his smile dimming. Then he ran back into the water.

By the time the sun was well over the horizon, Sheppard felt the ache of straining muscles that hadn't seen that much use since before he was assigned to Antarctica. Ronon could ride some waves but wiped out often—still, it was far better than John had done when he first learned. "Time to head back," he called to the big man, who looked like he wanted to keep trying until he got it right every time.

"I'll do better tomorrow," Ronon growled as they slipped boots and dry clothes on to walk back to the hut.

John turned his head sharply. "I don't think we've established that we're gonna be here tomorrow yet."

"We will be," Ronon said confidently. That was kind of annoying.

He'd hoped to have a little more conversation with Taban, maybe get a better sense of him or his people, but the only odd moment was over the penguins. That didn't seem very useful, but Sheppard filed it away for future reference. You never knew when something might turn out to be important.


	3. Chapter 3

Carson was amazed to wake up and find that he'd fallen back asleep after seeing the Colonel in the wee hours. He'd actually gotten some sleep on this strange world—not as much as he'd have had on a good night in his own bed, back on Atlantis, but enough.

Teyla was awake and apparently keeping an eye on things.

Their hosts had brought some light breakfast to the hut, and he ate outside with Teyla while Rodney woke up and complained inside; they could hear his voice but not make out any actual words, which seemed best for the time. He wasn't really a morning person.

Soon enough Rodney joined them. His hair was still damp and sticking up oddly.

"Forget your comb?" Carson asked with a nod.

Rodney made some sort of guttural sound and chewed a chunk of bread. "At least I didn't carry hair products out into the jungle," he said around the mouthful.

Carson frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Surely your hair doesn't do that thing in front _naturally_?"

Carson automatically put a hand up to his hair; he'd splashed some water over his face and head and run a comb through it earlier. It felt normal. "What thing in front?"

"You know! That, that _thing_!" Rodney stuck a hand up in front of his own forehead, his fingers sticking up. He needn't have. That increasingly lonely tuft of hair he still had in the front was sticking up quite well by itself. But Carson knew he didn't look like that.

He shook his head. "You're just jealous because I _have_ hair in front." That should shut him up.

But Rodney waved a finger at Carson's head and snapped, "That's not hair! That's a pelt!"

Teyla stiffened, and Carson thought for a moment she was about to let them both have it for arguing so early in the day. Then she relaxed. "It is just the Colonel and Ronon."

Carson hadn't heard a thing. He looked at Rodney, who carried on eating as if this were normal. 

"Did you hear them?" he asked Rodney quietly.

Rodney shrugged, stuffing food in his mouth.

Teyla smiled with what might have been patience or superiority—most likely both.

Then Carson heard footsteps himself, and Sheppard and Ronon emerged, clothed but carrying wet underwear. Spares, he hoped. Going about without proper undergarments in this climate would probably lead to chafing. He wouldn't recommend it, but no one had asked him.

"He went surfing too?" Rodney half followed the two men into the hut but came back out quickly when there was a growl in response.

Sheppard reappeared a moment later. "Well, he's not as good as me, but I bet he's a damn sight better at it than you are."

Then Teyla nodded to Challa, who had appeared silently within the last few moments, and she and Carson returned to the hospital with the young man.

All the patients from the previous day seemed to be responding well, and Carson was as pleased as Kana seemed to be. 

"Well," he said awkwardly as they finished their examinations. "You have some more patients to show me?"

Kana smiled and nodded, but the smile seemed strained. "Our planet has not always been as it is now; that will be evident enough in a little while, and we feel certain you suspect. We have not interfered with Doctor McKay's readings, but we have our suspicions about what he is measuring."

"Are we talking radiation poisoning?" Carson asked, working to keep his voice steady. He hated radiation poisoning. Treating the Genii poisoned by their own people had been awful, even though they'd been able to save most of them. 

Teyla moved closer to him.

"We believe the contamination that sickened our people is chemical," Kana said guardedly. "We...are now very careful in our treatment of our world. We have not always been so careful, and we believe some contaminant...left over from an earlier time...harmed five of our people." She spoke slowly, with long pauses, though Carson thought she must have planned this speech in advance; she'd known she was taking them today. "We are caring for them a bit further on, because we do not think the contamination is contagious, but we cannot be certain."

Carson frowned. Chemical warfare, some kind of nerve agent, or a virus? "What kind of chemicals?" Carson asked.

"We don't know. We...we produce few synthetic compounds these days, and those are fairly simple and safe. These...contaminants...were produced a long time ago." She explained that their planet had had different forms of production once. They had produced weapons to try to fight the Wraith—but they had been unsuccessful, and a huge portion of the population was lost. Carson could tell Kana was omitting a lot here. Their production facilities had been destroyed. The Jaqui had spent centuries building up a new way of life, the one that the team was being allowed to see. 

"Well, what are the damned symptoms?" He could understand her reticence to admit it was their fault, or their ancestors', but he was growing impatient.

"Blindness," Kana said in little more than a sigh. "Bleeding from the nose and mouth. Difficulty breathing. Sores on the skin."

"Bugger," Carson muttered. "Any number of things could cause those symptoms. I guess I really won't know until I see them."

Kana turned and gave him a tight smile. "I cannot tell you how much we appreciate that you are even willing to try."

"We wish you had been more forthcoming in the first place," Teyla said tartly. "We could have been better prepared."

Carson could only shake his head. This information didn't leave him any better prepared than he had been in the first place. It just gave him a stronger sense of dread.

"You decontaminated—washed them all?"

"Yes." Kana then told him in some detail what they had used to wash them, which would have been more helpful if he'd known all the cleaning substances she was talking about. She did, however, say that the one healer who had been with them almost around the clock in the seven days since they had become symptomatic had not herself shown symptoms. She gave them a few more details as they walked, but she either didn't know very much, or she wasn't willing to share.

Carson tried to be a good guest and keep his complaints to a minimum, particularly as his patients would probably give anything to change places with him. The sweat was just awful, though, and he wouldn't mind a dip in the ocean himself—though without any surf boards, thank you very much. 

"We hesitated to allow outsiders," Kana finally said, "as much because of the...complications you might introduce as because of what you might learn about us."

"Complications?" Teyla asked. She was sweating freely but not panting, which meant she was in better shape than Carson. That came as no surprise. 

"We turned our backs on the way of life we used to have. You still have that way of life. We...we cannot treat these ill people ourselves, however, and we decided to take the risk. We are trying to minimize contacts with your technology by only giving you a few, well-trained guides," Kana said heavily. "We do not even know the names of these substances; the containers were coded in a way we no longer understand." 

Teyla gave Carson a grim look, but her words were carefully chosen. "We have all made mistakes in fighting the Wraith."

"That is why we do not fight them any longer," Kana said. Her tone wasn't even resigned, just matter-of-fact.

Teyla nodded. "My own people sought to evade them, but we had no means to fight them—until we met Colonel Sheppard."

After that they fell silent again, and Carson was glad when they finally arrived. He hadn't expected "a bit further" to be over forty minutes' hike, most of it through the denser jungle with thicker undergrowth than the area where their hut and the pavilion were. A small hut, neither as sturdy nor as airy as the hospital, stood under the tall trees.

"They were digging a third of an hour's walk in that direction when they first reported symptoms. They had been working for hours before the symptoms appeared," Kana told them, pointing to her left as they approached the little building.

"They were right near here when they came down with symptoms?" Carson cried out. How could these people be so advanced in some ways and so backwards in others? That was the _first_ thing she should have told them! Oh, he should have asked.

"Do we need hazmat gear?" Teyla asked.

"Might be best," Carson replied, and they stopped outside the hut to don the gear they had all brought when told vaguely of a medical problem. Kana frowned but did nothing to stop them.

Carson hated climbing into the thing when he was already sweaty, but there was nothing for it. He'd better check his patients before he risked going without it. If he'd known earlier they were in the area of the contamination, he'd have probably insisted they put them on sooner. Yet he remembered how Rodney had dehydrated himself once by wearing such gear too long. Perhaps it was for the best.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, but it only reeked of his own sweat. He walked in.

Four men and one woman lay on cots like those at the hospital he'd seen the previous day. All had bandaged eyes. The woman had a little dried blood around her nose and mouth. Some areas of their skin were bandaged.

An older woman seated by one of the men jumped up to greet them. Much older—she looked more than old enough to be a grandmother. "I am Wayu," she told them. "You are healers?" She fell just short of being hostile; she was certainly wary.

"I am not a doctor," Teyla told her, "but Doctor Beckett is a most skilled healer."

Carson put his pack inside the door and pulled out an environmental scanner. "I'd like to hear the details from you," he told Wayu even as he started scanning the air and surfaces near the door. He noticed Kana examining the patients already, scowling.

"They were digging. They were removing sealed containers of a weapon. We were planning to conduct a controlled test—"

"What?" Carson exclaimed.

"We had not agreed to tell them this much," Kana said tightly over Carson's interruption.

Wayu glared down at her from a full inch higher. It seemed not all her hostility was directed at the off-worlders. "How do you expect them to treat our patients if they do not know the whole story?"

"It is enough to know that they were exposed to chemicals we can no longer identify! They had not gone as far as to execute the test! We were not even close to that stage! And we had not even fully agreed—" Kana spoke with a stern authority unlike the tone she used with Carson, or even with her cousin. 

A patient coughed loudly, and Kana turned to the woman, but Teyla was already propping her better with pillows.

"And what did you do with the containers they had already handled?" Carson asked.

"They put them back in the pit," Wayu told him. "Jalli brought them back down; she is most severely affected."  
 "And what did you _think_ those chemicals were going to do?" His own voice reverberated in the damned suit. He moved to the first patient and scanned the man's body as best he could without touching him. His skin was bandaged in several places.

"The chemicals were developed for use against the Wraith, we believe," Wayu continued. "When we heard they had awakened early, some among us decided that we should see if they were useful."

"Enough!" Kana shouted. "You have not been authorized to share this information." 

"Looks clean," Carson said, pulling off his headgear.

Teyla followed with relief.

"We will surely want to know more about what you've developed and what you plan to do with it," Carson said.

"That is not your business!" Kana snapped.

"It is while our people are on your planet!" Carson shouted back. He took a deep breath, putting his temper under control again. These people weren't the enemy—at least he hoped they weren't. They were clearly frightened. "What's most important right now is the question I already asked: what did you _expect_ this chemical to do?"

"Kill," Wayu said simply.

Carson took a couple of breaths. By now, two of the patients were coughing.

"That's lovely," he finally said, his sarcasm totally unequal to the task. "How? And was it meant to target Wraith? Because obviously it doesn't just work on them."

"We don't know," Kana said angrily. "We knew that our forebears buried these chemicals because they were dangerous. They labeled them, but we lost the code! It is not our normal written language!" She put her hands to her temples, then brought them back down quickly, visibly forcing herself to relax a little.

"Doctor McKay may be able to help with that, if they are scientific diagrams," Teyla said quietly. "Or perhaps the linguistics department?"

"Good point, love," Carson said, glad of her cooler head. He started to take blood samples, but Kana moved to intervene at once.

"I must make a request," she told him as she caught his arm. At his nod, she said, "Please destroy the samples as soon as you have finished with them. We do not wish—we do not—"

Carson nodded. "I can respect that. I'll only take what I need, and I'll destroy it if there's no contagion to worry about."

With the help of the other healers, he quickly had a full set of samples, and he took down patients' vitals while he ran the blood. Wayu contributed specific details about the timing of various symptoms and the patients' individual progress. She was certain—and some of the patients began to chip in—that they hadn't opened anything.

It didn't take long to come to a diagnosis. "Whatever the exact chemicals were, they seem to be from a class of chemical weapons we call 'mustard gas.' It's very nasty stuff. Symptoms may first appear hours after exposure. I suspect those sealed containers have begun to leak. How long have they been stored?"

Silence.

"What are they stored in?"

Wayu glared at Kana. 

"If I knew, I would tell you!" Kana exclaimed, more to her fellow healer than to Carson. "Why do you think I would know?"

Wayu looked dissatisfied, but she said nothing more. Carson wondered exactly what Kana's role here was. It seemed to be more than just healer.

A patient, Mara, spoke up. "They were in little containers, made of a material.... I do not know. It was not metal, but hard and smooth."

"Ceramic?" Teyla asked.

"No," the man said confidently, and another added, "Or not any ceramic I have ever known."

"Plastic?" Carson guessed. He pulled a plastic case of instruments out of his bag. "Did it feel like this?"

The man touched the bag hesitantly. "Not exactly. Somewhat."

"Probably plastic. Plastics don't last forever. Look," he said, turning to the two Jaqui women who could still see, "I don't see how it can be a state secret how long that stuff's been down there; it might help us to know. Rodney—Doctor McKay—might have a better idea of how badly the containers might have broken down." He wasn't certain it was true, but he really needed more information.

"We do not know exactly when they were buried, but it was more than two cullings ago," Kana told them at last, her back stiffening.

"Two cullings?" Teyla asked in surprise. "That would be hundreds of years!" 

"Do you happen to know...how many hundreds?" Carson asked with little hope of answer.

Wayu shook her head. Kana turned her back on them all and stepped out of the hut. Carson could see trembling in her arms. "She doesn't want to admit she doesn't know," Wayu said with distaste. "We...there was a time during which we did not always keep accurate...histories. The Burning Time, we call it. I should allow Kana to tell you more. She knows more than I do anyway, and she will tell you, when she calms down. But we do not know everything you wish to know. Everything you need to know."

There was silence for a while. Kana came back in; Carson hadn't heard footsteps, and he suspected she had gone no farther than just outside the door. She still held herself stiffly, but the shaking was gone. 

He checked the results of his latest blood tests; everything found looked consistent with what he knew of mustard gas. He'd never made much study of the stuff.

"The worst symptoms," he explained, "often come on several hours, as much as a day, after exposure. And sometimes they do improve, with time. With your permission..." he hesitated, then stepped outside with Wayu, who only needed a small gesture to join him outside the hut. Kana followed.

"Have you checked their eyesight since the original problems developed?" Carson asked quietly.

Wayu shook her head. "I checked a few hours after it happened and again the next day. To keep testing them when we knew so little seemed too cruel," she said. "You see them. They have lost heart. Can you imagine losing your _sight_?" she asked. "And they are some of our very best young people! I said we should not send young people," she added with venom clearly directed at Kana. "That's why I am here. In case it spreads. So we won't lose our _future_ to the mistakes of our past."

Kana remained silent, one hand clenching the other wrist. Her knuckles were white. 

"It's worth checking their vision again," Carson said. "If these chemicals were like similar weapons...that I've heard of, their condition may have improved."

Wayu nodded. "They cough much less, and only Jalli still has blood from her mouth and nose." 

"Will you permit me to check? Or maybe you should do it." 

Wayu nodded. "They are fearful. You see how silent they are around you. I will remove the bandages. Mara first. He has improved greatly and hardly coughs at all."

*****

Phutu told Sheppard and Rodney that any decision about bringing a Jumper would have to wait until later in the day. They were welcome to take more readings in the jungle or stay around the settlement, as they pleased. When Phutu suggested more surfing, McKay exploded. An agitated Rodney did have a certain entertainment value, but John was glad that didn't last too long.

It was McKay's idea that they take more readings, but that didn't stop him from complaining bitterly, and almost incessantly, that walking around with the scanner was next to useless; they couldn't do a proper search pattern, they couldn't cover enough ground, and so on. Sheppard knew from having flown search patterns himself that McKay was right. He itched to get a Jumper here, but somehow he doubted they'd allow it. Phutu remained as pleasant as always, but he was stalling.

Once again, Taban was the only designated guide, but they had multiple shadows—three for sure, probably four again. Ronon didn't bother to give John any clues this time.

Their scans seemed to replicate patterns from the day before. The further north and east they went, the more radiation seemed to increase.

And then Carson radioed to tell them to watch for mustard gas and indicate roughly where it was located.

"Mustard gas? Mustard gas! Are you nuts? What the hell are you even doing in that area? Get your butts back to the village!"

John abandoned his attempts to talk over McKay and finally reached over and pulled the radio away from McKay. "Hey!" McKay shouted.

John handed it up to Ronon, who held it as high as he could, and for a moment, Sheppard watched McKay measuring the jump it would take. John had seen Rodney jump. He didn't have a prayer. And McKay figured that out, to Ronon's apparent disappointment, but he kept arguing with Dex.

"You're sure you're safe, Doc?" he asked, taking a few steps away from the others.

"I've got the medical scanner," Carson answered in exasperation—he could probably still hear Rodney yelling at Ronon in the background. "I'm not getting a measurable amount of anything toxic in the air or on surfaces. The patients are clean, the air is clean. They tell me the site is about twenty minutes' walk from here. We're about as safe as you are."

Sheppard had to wonder exactly how safe that was.

"Oh, and Rodney? I'm getting a reading of 27 millisieverts. We're well to the east of you, from what I understand. You should head more west, to avoid the chemicals and get more readings."

"Now _he_ 's telling me how to do _science_?" squawked Rodney. Sheppard didn't know how Rodney could hear anything while talking so much himself, especially without a radio of his own for the moment.

"I'm going to turn you over to Kana for a moment; she wants to talk to Taban."

A woman's voice came over the radio, and Ronon held the radio out to Taban. To John's surprise, Rodney allowed the other man to take it. Taban took it eagerly. Kana gave directions that involved a landmarks and some distance measurement that Sheppard didn't recognize. She was telling them where _not_ to go. Nice of them.

Carson's voice came back on the radio. 

"We'll do the scans," Sheppard told him cheerfully. "Call us if anything, and I mean _anything_ , more develops. We'll check in with you every hour otherwise."

"Tell that quack—" Rodney started, yelling up towards his radio, which Ronon had reclaimed.

"Sheppard out," John said with satisfaction. Of course, that meant McKay turned on him, even though Ronon returned his radio.

"Are you nuts? Well, not as nuts as Carson, apparently! We have no business being on this planet!"

"What is mustard gas?" Taban asked quietly, obviously startling Rodney, who seemed to have forgotten that their guide was there.

"It's a gas that burns your lungs and your eyes," McKay answered. "Oh, and your skin! Nasty, nasty stuff. On _my_ planet, we have treaties against using it."

"Not everyone abides by those," Sheppard pointed out.

McKay nodded, silently. His brow was furrowed, and his shoulders tight. Sheppard hoped his own worry was a little less obvious, but he couldn't blame Rodney.

*****

They re-entered the hut, and Wayu explained softly to Mara what she was doing, but the others could obviously all hear. Wayu slowly, gently unwound the soft bandages from Mara's eyes, telling him to keep them closed. Kana stood close to his head to block the light. They had him sit with closed eyes for a minute, then open his eyes.

"It's blurry," he said at last, "but I can see light. And people. You are tall!" he told Carson, who stood by his cot.

Carson laughed out loud. "I think you're the first person that's ever said that to me."

They could hear breath being let out from all the other patients, and the healers too. Each of the victims had his or her bandages removed in turn. One of them began to cry as he realized he could see colors and shapes. Even Jalli could see some difference between light and dark.

Carson prescribed antibiotics for the respiratory symptoms; they'd all suffered surface burns and at least minor burns to their throat and lungs, and three of them showed clear signs of infection. Wayu had been treating the symptoms with pain relievers and their version of antibiotics, as well as cough medicines that Carson took samples of to test; he wasn't prepared to prescribe anything else until he knew what they'd already been given.

"I don't know that you'll ever recover fully," he told the group. "You may suffer some permanent visual impairment, and the fact that four of you have lungs that still aren't clear may indicate permanent damage. But you'll live, and you may well improve further, with proper medication and nutrition."

The gratitude in their faces and voices humbled Carson. He hadn't really done anything. Wayu would surely have checked their eyes again soon. Better antibiotics were the only thing that might make a real difference. But they were indeed grateful, and even Kana's stiffness seemed to melt away.

By the time he and Wayu had finished, they were all hungry. Wayu offered them food; the village had been keeping her supplied, which was good to know. "It should be safe enough to bring them back," Carson said, but a look passed between Wayu and Kana. "Unless, of course, not everyone in the village knows about this," he added casually. 

Kana looked him directly in the eye, and he had no doubt she could have lied to him if she had seen fit, but she said simply, "Not everyone knows," and ignored Wayu's glare.

They finished their meal in silence, and Kana walked them back.

"I am sorry we have not told you more," she said after a few minutes. She sounded sincere, but Carson doubted he could really tell. She had kept a lot back the previous day, and she was probably keeping some back still. "We...I am one of the leaders of the village."

"We kind of figured that out," Carson said, and Teyla tossed a look at him. What? Was he supposed to pretend they couldn't figure anything out? He wished he were in his infirmary, where he knew what he was supposed to do. Most of the time, anyway.

"We...needed to get to know you better before we told you some of our secrets. You have proven most helpful so far. I hope you may be more helpful still," Kana continued.

"What do you want of us?" Carson asked warily. 

"I must speak with the others. I am not in a position to make further requests without their approval."

"Who _are_ the others?" 

He was again sorry he had asked. Phutu, Nixa, Catari—after that, he lost track of the names. He had probably met them when they first arrived. Carson gave up and hoped Teyla would keep track of them.

He radioed the others well before they arrived back and notified them that they needed to speak. Sheppard told them to meet at the hut. 

On their return to the village, Carson dropped by the hospital to check up on his patients from the previous day. Carson was a little surprised at being allowed to go alone; Teyla felt no need to accompany him this time and went to see the others.

Challa greeted him warmly, speaking highly of the medication he'd given the woman suffering the allergic rash. She was indeed much improved.

"How do you make these medicines?" Challa wanted to know. "Do you mix them yourself? Can you show me how?"

Carson had to laugh at the young man's eagerness. "I wish I could, lad, but we buy most of them from...." How to explain pharmaceutical companies? "We have specialized machinery to synthesize and combine the necessary ingredients," he said after a moment's thought.

Challa's face fell. "Then we cannot make such things here?"

"Not with the level of technology I've seen, no." Carson seized the opportunity to learn a little more. He motioned Challa to step outside with him, out of earshot. "Kana said you used to have a much higher level of technology, but..."

Challa's eyebrows shot up. "She told you? How much did—Pardon me. I am being rude."

"No, it's all right." Carson assured him. "I know...I know you've got your own secrets. But she did tell me a little of your history. And I would help you make better drugs if I could, but I just don't think you can synthesize any of the medications I've brought here, unless you still have some production facilities...."

Challa's obvious disappointment suggested no deception when he shook his head. 

Feeling a little bad for trying to pry information from the unsuspecting young man, Carson added, "We may be able to work out some kind of a trade agreement; that's what our people wanted when they first came here."

"We have little to trade that you would value," Challa said sadly. 

"You seem to have a wealth of...natural resources," Carson said vaguely, hoping the younger doctor would help him out.

"We trade woven goods, and a few plant products, as you surely know," Challa answered, "but little else. We do not allow animals or most of their products to be taken off-world."

"Maybe minerals?" Carson guessed.

Challa shrugged. "I would not know about such things. I have no interest in them. But if they can bring us better healing, perhaps I should," he added with a shy smile. 

Carson didn't want to push too far. He'd leave that to the others. He smiled and reiterated that he hoped they could reach a trade agreement.

Challa nodded enthusiastically. "I will speak with Kana about it," he promised before returning to his patients.

Rodney caught him coming back to the hut, waving off Carson's question about the others with a snort and the word "military."

"We were definitely looking at a hot spot," he told Carson, and then he was off with various numbers which did in fact sound increasingly worrisome, but nothing that should have poisoned the group over the few hours they'd spent pursuing the radiation. "I think we've described the bottom arc of a circle, a blast radius; the center of the blast must still be well to the north of where we were. So what did you learn about this mustard gas! Spill," Rodney demanded.

"The whole story takes some telling, and I only want to have to go through it once." He walked past Rodney towards the hut. 

"Oh, come on, you have to tell me something!"

"Not here!" Carson looked around. He was not bloody well going to upset their hosts by trumpeting information not everyone in the village had. "Have you noticed how far apart their huts are? I think they must be deeply invested in privacy."

"You're trying to distract me," Rodney said. "That means it's something bad."

Actually, it had just struck Carson how far apart the dwellings were. From any given hut, one could only see one or two others among the trees. Defensive? Making it hard for Wraith to determine how many people there were? Or to lessen the impact on the environment?

"So? You gotta give me something here!"

"Why can't you just wait for the others?" They reached the hut. Carson stepped inside and slid down the wall, sitting on one of the woven mats that covered parts of the dirt floor. 

But of course Rodney plopped down next to him and kept going. "Come on!" he shouted. "Five people get exposed to a highly poison–"

He had to cut Rodney off with a hand to the man's mouth. He wrinkled his nose and pulled out some hand sanitizer from his pack more to annoy Rodney than anything else. He couldn't get on Rodney's nerves the way the man sometimes got on his, but he had to get something back.

"Not everyone here knows yet," Carson hissed while he scrubbed his hands together.

"So you've made friends with these people who have some deadly poison gas lying around? Who haven't shared that information with their fellow aborigines? What else do they want from us?"

Carson shrugged wearily. It was mid-afternoon, but he was deeply tired from walking, and worrying, and wondering what might come next. "I don't think the word 'aborigine' is appropriate, Rodney."

"How much did you help them? Can you cure—what happened to them?" Rodney did stick his head back outside the hut. He was trying to be discreet.

"I could help a little. Not much. They are recovering, but their lungs and eyes may have sustained permanent damage. I think they weren't exposed to a great amount, or else the stock was so old it wasn't very effective. I don't know a lot about these things."

"But you helped them." It was a statement rather than a question, but Carson nodded. "And they're grateful." Carson nodded again. " _Really_ grateful?"

Carson figured it wasn't safe to nod at that.

"Either way, you know they're gonna want something more from us." 

Safest not to say anything.

"You think if you don't say anything, I won't guess? Oh, come on, Carson, you know me better than that. They've already asked, haven't they?"

He shook his head. Why? Why couldn't he just ignore Rodney?

"But they're going to ask!" Rodney said triumphantly.

"Think so," Carson finally said.

"Great! Just great! You help people, and they want something more from us. I bet they'll want _my_ help. Disposing of the gas, maybe?" Carson looked up at him, startled. He'd been trying not to think too much about it.

Rodney must have read confirmation, which Carson hadn't given, but Carson couldn't deny it either; the moment Rodney said it, it sounded very likely. "Oh, wonderful!" Rodney kicked at the dirt floor showing between the mats. "This is another nice mess you've gotten us into!"

"I? _I've_ gotten us into? Oh, and we're not counting your mistakes then, are we, Rodney?" It was hardly Carson's fault! He was tired, and the Jaqui had misled him even as they asked for his help yesterday. He knew they still weren't telling him the whole truth. And Rodney wanted to make this out to be his fault somehow? He knew arguing with Rodney wouldn't make it better, but Rodney was just so...infuriating. 

Then Carson replayed Rodney's words in his head, only with a different voice. "Wait: 'another fine mess'—that makes me what? Or who? And you think _you're_ the straight man? And I'm—" —being baited, he realized belatedly.

"Of course I'm the straight man! Genius, remember?" He tapped his temple. "You can't possibly think _you're_ —"

"As if you would ever let anyone forget! That doesn't make the rest of us—You know, I don't think Laurel and Hardy even _had_ a straight man, they were both—"

He broke off as he realized Ronon was just outside the doorway. Ronon entered, followed a moment later by Sheppard. 

"So what were they arguing about this time?" the colonel asked Ronon in an undertone.

Ronon shrugged. "I dunno. Something about—Sheppard, what's a 'straight man'?" His intonation was all wrong.

Sheppard gave them both a glance, and in that moment Carson had his mouth open, but Sheppard started first. "Well, in our culture, we call men 'straight' if they're attracted to _women—_ "

"It wasn't 'straight _man_ ,' it was ' _straight_ man,'" Carson tried desperately, but he had started right after Sheppard, and the man talked right over him.

Rodney realized what was happening and jumped up to object too late. "No, no, no! Look, you big—"

"—whereas men who are attracted to other _men_ —"

Teyla was inside the hut suddenly too, and Carson gave up in dismay. Wait. Ronon was following Sheppard's explanation far too intently, too seriously. He tended to be diffident about things he didn't know, downplaying any possible ignorance. He knew exactly what was going on. 

Carson stood and tried to call him on it. "You know full well what we meant, Ronon Dex—you're playing straight man right now!"

Rodney was still sputtering, his face darkening.

"Huh," Ronon said, eyeing them both dubiously. "See, each one was trying to deny that the other was a _straight_ man."

Rodney gave up sputtering at the others and turned and poked Carson in the chest. "I am not even"—poke— "going to wait"—poke—"until you're asleep," he hissed, with an extra poke.

"Whoa, TMI!" Sheppard put his hands over his ears.

Carson tried to grab the offending hand but failed. 

"I'm going to kill you _right now_!" Rodney continued. Poke poke. What, he planned on stabbing Carson to death with his finger? Or just fatally annoying him?

"And if you don't stop poking me _right now_ ," Carson finally raised his voice, but then he stopped. He realized that Sheppard had taken his hands off his ears and the other three were now hanging on his every word. Oh, God. He'd just made it worse. His own face burning, Carson turned away.

"Or what? Gonna threaten me with needles?" Oh, Rodney.

"No, just one needle!" That from Sheppard. "Instrument?" the man choked out.

There was the sudden plop of a body hitting the ground, and Carson turned in momentary alarm to find the head of the expedition on the ground, clutching his stomach, gasping for breath. Laughing. He'd fallen over laughing. He looked like he had been trying to hold it in, but he was failing miserably. Ronon was laughing now too.

Teyla was silent, but her whole body was shaking, and her face was contorting oddly. She caught Carson's gaze and turned her face.

Rodney covered his eyes. "Oh, dear God. This is so your fault," he muttered.

Carson tried to defend himself but was immediately interrupted—by Rodney. "You know, we _do_ have serious business to discuss, if you clowns are finished. And this just proves my original point."

"That you're Oliver Hardy?" Carson shot back. He had to admit, it was a hell of a set-up—especially since he and Rodney had done almost all the setting up themselves. 

"You do realize I'm writing all of you out of my will," Rodney said, crossing his arms stiffly over his chest.

"You have to survive this mission to do that," Carson pointed out, then regretted it. He was getting to be as bad as Rodney. The man really was a bad influence.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Sheppard gasped. He was now sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Hello? Colonel? I think we've moved on." Rodney's face was still very red. Carson was tempted to tell him that if he didn't calm down soon, he'd have to take Rodney's blood pressure, but he feared it would set off another round of laughter. The best thing was to focus Rodney on the problem at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line about Carson having "a pelt" rather than hair is borrowed from _Due South_ , where Ray Vecchio addressed it to Benton Fraser.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite his joking—and, God, he couldn't have asked to walk in at a better moment—Sheppard hated this situation. 

Really hated it. These people didn't seem to be like the Genii. Were possibly well-meaning but ignorant people even _more_ dangerous than...? No, probably not. Almost nothing was more dangerous than the Genii, or at least than Acastus Kolya. John had more success working with _Wraith_. They were less vengeful, more rational, in their own sick way.

Their attempt to pool information largely amounted to a recap of what they'd told each other over the radio anyway. These were a people who had either used nuclear weapons or had a major nuclear accident some time ago, part of a disaster called the Burning Time. How the poison gas fit in, John wasn't sure; Carson seemed to think it had been stockpiled but never used. But then, Carson's sources weren't entirely trustworthy, and they also might not know the whole truth. 

"Even if they didn't use the gas," Rodney pointed out with increasing volume, "it could be because they got nuked first, so it wasn't for lack of trying! I say we head out _now_ ; do we really want to be friends with people who play with nukes and chemical weapons?"

"No! I'm certain we don't!" Carson shouted back, suddenly angry.

"Lower your voice, Doc!" Sheppard hissed, though he had no idea where Carson was going with that; he thought the doc _wanted_ to help these people. He'd been sure of it.

Carson managed to whisper in a tone that still sounded like a shout. "In fact, we should cut our ties with everyone who uses nuclear weapons _and_ biological weapons." He glared at McKay and tossed a look at Sheppard for good measure. "I think, then, we'd better stop talking now, because you have both used nuclear weapons—"

"Not against people!" Rodney interrupted.

"—and Colonel Sheppard here belongs to a military that used nuclear bombs to kill hundreds of thousands of civilians, and sickened tens or hundreds of thousands more, well under a century ago! The SGC has used nukes several times in the last decade. The Jaqui haven't used these weapons in centuries! And they've been sickened while investigating a stockpile of biological weapons they can't even identify! 

"But _I_ created a shot that killed half the people of Hoff, and _then_ a retrovirus that—"

Rodney's eyes grew big and his mouth twisted, and John realized he'd let things go way too far.

"Hey, cut it out! Doctor Beckett, that's enough!" 

Carson bit off his last words but then added, "As a Canadian, Rodney, I suppose you haven't been involved in such things, so you should probably dissociate from the Colonel and myself." He leaned back, resting his head against the hut wall and closing his eyes.

"So you're conveniently forgetting Doranda?" Rodney hissed, and from the way Carson's head snapped down and his eyes opened, Sheppard had to guess that he had been. "Oh, for God's sake, Carson, do you have to make this as hard as possible?"

Carson swallowed a couple of times before apologizing in a low voice.

John seized the opportunity to talk before either of them could manage to stick a foot in his mouth again. "What we do next depends partly on what decisions the guys in charge here make, but mostly on what decision Doctor Weir makes. Phutu promised me an answer before dinner. We're gonna see what they want, and how much they'll tell us, and then we're going back to consult."

"I can't go back. I have patients," Carson said dully.

"Doctor, you said there was little more you could do for them," Teyla reminded him. "You have left medications with Wayu. She will care for them. The ones you treated in the village need no further help from you."

"I will tell you one thing," Sheppard said, taking a deep breath as he reached his decision. "If we decide to help these people, it's gonna be because _they_ need help, because _we_ can give it, and maybe because we get something out of it—whether it's preventing Wraith from finding stockpiles of old weapons or because they'll give us something worthwhile or whatever. We are _not_ helping them to wipe out our old guilts, real _or_ imagined."

Carson looked surprised for a moment and then glared. Rodney crossed his arms. Well, now the two of them were on the same side again. And if that meant John was the bad guy, he could take it. Each man had his own burdens of guilt to bear. If they could help these people, great. But he couldn't afford to have either of them looking to the Jaqui for redemption, because it wasn't clear they could really help these people, and Sheppard still didn't trust them. They needed to stay focused on this situation, not confuse it with Hoff, or Doranda, or the Wraith who had been made not quite human. The Jaqui weren't any of those things, and they needed to stay alert so that they could really get a handle on who and what the Jaqui were, where their interests aligned with Atlantis's, and where they might have problems.

Of course, the Jaqui were not the Genii either, John reminded himself.

The leaders did not keep them waiting long. Kana came herself to ask them to accompany her to the pavilion. Phutu was sitting at the center; a heavy woman who looked nearly as old as Phutu sat nearby. Kana seated himself and formally reintroduced everyone, including Catari, the old woman. Taban and a handful of other men and women stood with their backs facing into the pavilion, clearly protecting it. Sheppard wondered from who.

Phutu was not smiling this afternoon. He talked quietly and evenly, explaining that he was the region's historian, and he was entrusting to them more information than outsiders had ever been given. 

"We'll keep the information confidential," Sheppard told him, "though we will have to share it with our leader."

Phutu nodded. He went on to tell them that over their long history, the Jaqui had accomplished many great things. "One we had great cities—not as great as your Atlantis is—"

"Atlantis was destroyed," Rodney said before anyone else could, in a downcast tone that was actually convincing. John was impressed.

"Of course." Phutu smiled again. Well, John wasn't glad to see that. "Perhaps not as great as your Atlantis was. But we had cities with hundreds of thousands of inhabitants."

"We've hardly seen that kind of population anywhere—" Carson started. 

"More than just this area around the Gate, I take it." Rodney dared anyone to disagree. "Your whole world is inhabited, isn't it? You don't want us to bring Jumpers because we might go exploring and see that, unlike some of the planets we've visited, the whole planet is settled."

Kana's face turned sour, as if she'd eaten a lemon, John thought. Fitting.

"You would not see much." Phutu smiled sadly. "Our population is indeed spread out. But it is so small now that it is not worth the Wraith's time—the trick, we hope, to our ongoing survival."

The Jaqui would make great poker players, Sheppard thought. Too bad for them that his team was used to misinformation. Even Carson looked skeptical.

At John's question, Phutu admitted that they did have contact with the others 

"And you communicate by carrier pigeon, I suppose?" McKay smirked. John wanted to just reach over and give him a smack, but that wouldn't be appropriate. He had better wait and do it in private.

"You do not need to know all the details!" said Catari in exasperation. It was the first she had spoken since she was introduced today. 

"Right." Rodney waved a hand. "Go on."

Several of the Jaqui glared. Rodney was winning friends again. Phutu told them more about the apparently glorious past—airships, some kind of train, even machines that thought.

"And weapons," Phutu said heavily. "Terrible, terrible weapons. As you have seen."

"Chemical weapons," Carson confirmed.

Phutu allowed Kana to describe the weapons. Conventional bombs; they couldn't tell the team how much power they packed, but they really didn't need to. After that, of course, was the mustard gas, and possibly other chemical weapons. Then there were weapons that burned people in a flash, unlike the chemicals; destroyed buildings nearby; and destroyed machines from a distance.

"EMP," Rodney muttered. "Has to be nukes. Explains those readings." He was silent for a moment, looking at the Jaqui, apparently waiting for them to say something.

But Rodney had never been a patient man, so he was the first to speak again. "But there's nothing! How can there be nothing? Are there ruins somewhere else? Did you come here to get away from the contamination?"

"Some cities were still habitable, we believe, after the Burning Time. In time, we might have moved back to them, rebuilt. But then the Wraith came," Phutu explained. 

"And they bombed the hell out of whatever remained," Ronon said knowingly.

"Indeed," Phutu confirmed. "We know now that they make a practice of destroying worlds that have technology. We still had traces. When they were done, we had virtually none. For many years, we cannot even find written records. We do not know how long this era lasted, or exactly how long ago the Wraith attacks were. The survivors pulled down what ruins remained themselves. They destroyed weapons—or buried them, it seems, if they had not already been buried." He tilted his head towards Kana. "We still sometimes find metal, easier to rework than to mine ourselves. We sometimes find other useful materials. Recently, we found what we suspected were weapons, and some thought we should try them against Wraith."

"Are you _nuts_?" Rodney asked. "You were gonna wait for Wraith...?"

"Of course not," Catari snapped. "We...would test it on another world being culled."

"That would require damned fast intel!" Sheppard exclaimed.

"You can't gas someone in a Dart; the gas won't reach them. It would only get to Wraith not in a ship," Carson added.

No one answered them.

Rodney snorted. "Hold on. I want to go back to the part where you'd have us believe you destroyed every vestige of your civilization...."

"We destroyed what _destroyed_ our civilization!" Catari snarled. "To preserve what was left! Civilization is not airships and weapons; civilization is _people_!"

Rodney frowned deeply. "There are _so_ many things here to argue—but how the hell are your people gonna survive when you're a little backwater planet that can't even take care—"

Beckett couldn't seem to keep quiet either. "Rodney! They were doing pretty damn well, it seems, until they found a cache of weapons they _didn't_ destroy!"

"And we fear there may be more," Kana explained. "If the Wraith attack—"

"Oh, God!" Carson exclaimed. "If you've got other weapons stored, and they happen to detect the stuff—"

Rodney interrupted, "They'll blast the hell out of you again. And if you've got any _nukes_ hidden away in addition to chemical weapons, and they set those _off_...." He trailed off in obvious dismay.

"Why don't you _leave_?" Ronon growled in frustration. "If people are all that matter, go somewhere else!"

"Easy words for one as secure as you," Kana replied tartly. 

"Yeah, it's easy for _him_ to say because the Wraith destroyed his planet too, because of their technology, and hardly anyone survived."

Ronon did not look grateful for Rodney's explanation.

"Where...?" asked Phutu.

"Sateda." Ronon glared at him, leaning forward over the low table.

To his credit, the little man did not lean back. He didn't move at all, except to dip his head low over the table. "I am sorry," he said, looking Ronon in the face again.

Kana said nothing, just sat with her lips pursed tightly.

"We do not wish to leave when we have so much here!" Catari intervened. She leaned towards Rodney. "You may not think much of our civilization." She paused for effect. "Then you are ignorant." 

McKay straightened and opened his mouth.

"Have you seen our water purification system? Do you know our life expectancy?" Kana took over from Catari. 

"No," Carson answered, not realizing or not caring that the question was rhetorical. "You keep statistics?"

"Of course we keep statistics! We are not ignorant! You asked about our rates of disease and injury. I cannot tell you—"

"Perhaps you can," Phutu said.

Kana turned and looked at him. "I see no need," she said coldly before turning back to the team. "Our rates of disease and injury are far better than those on most worlds, I would guess, though most others do _not_ keep statistics. We have pure water. We have good food and a beautiful land."

"Some other parts of our world are not so beautiful," Catari said with authority. Phutu smiled at that.

"We have _millienia_ of tradition! We were—" another old man began, but Catari dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he was silent.

"Millennia?" Carson and Rodney spoke almost simultaneously.

"Did your people know the Ancestors?" Teyla asked, eyes wide. "Did you work with them?"

Phutu remained as unperturbed as ever, but if that old man next to Catari stiffened any more, he'd snap. Kana's face had frozen.

A momentary silence fell, and then Carson said, "Are _you_ Ancients?"

"No," Phutu laughed. "We are not Ancients! Would we ask your help if we were?"  
"Yeah. Maybe," Rodney answered.

"But you _knew_ the Ancestors," Teyla said.

Phutu's eyebrows went up. "Who knows what contacts our own distant ancestors had? Did not your people know them, dear, that you call them 'the Ancestors'?"

"Yeah, but _her_ people haven't been engaged in chemical warfare and building nuclear bombs!"

Ronon's silence wasn't unusual, but Carson's was. He was looking at Kana.

Then the doctor said, casually, "I suppose blood and tissue samples would show whether—"

"No!" Kana cut him off, obviously horrified. "You said you would not keep them!"

"I haven't," Carson answered mildly. "I could, however, take more—"

John was lost. The doc must have left something out at their debriefing in the hut.

Phutu did not look surprised, however. "We cannot allow that. I am sorry, and we do appreciate your help, but we do not allow such things to be done."

"Well, that's just stupid," Rodney said.

"McKay," Sheppard warned him.

"Well, it is! I mean, they won't let Carson take samples, but if their 'traders' on other planets die, anybody can have anything they want!"

"McKay, that's enough!"

"But not just anybody on any planet would know that the Jaqui are special—am I right?" Carson asked.

How were they special? John couldn't keep up, and he was frustrated. They were old, right? How old _were_ the people in this galaxy? Younger than the people in his?

Kana nodded vigorously. "We tell you our history so that you can understand what has happened here, and so that you can help us. These are not secrets we reveal lightly; we trust that you will not share them."

"But knowing more about your biology, and about other peoples in this galaxy—"

"Doctor Beckett," John said warningly, before the doc could start talking about differences with his _own_ galaxy. Atlantis now tried to downplay the fact that they weren't from around here. It had gotten them in more than enough trouble already—although the Jaqui seemed to have their ears to the ground and probably knew all that already.

"I'm just saying, there are differences between, say, Teyla's DNA and ours. Sometimes our drugs don't work so well on Athosians, or other people; if these people are the oldest, or among the oldest, if people on other worlds may have descended from the same gene pool—"

Oh. So that's what was going on. These might be the oldest people in the galaxy? At least the oldest non-Ancients?

Kana nodded again. "Exactly. And if enemies were to learn our secrets, they could also design drugs to work _against_ our people. And perhaps against other peoples as well."

Carson's mouth formed a silent "oh," and he sat back.

Rodney jumped in again: "Or design—"

"Rodney," Carson said quietly, "let it go."

"But—"

"McKay!" Sheppard didn't want to remind Rodney in front of these people that he been urging them just to leave a short time ago. "We need to check in or return tonight, and at the rate you're going, we won't be ready until tomorrow!"

When he looked back at Phutu, the man had a small smile on his face again. A tolerant one. Good. Rodney needed a lot of tolerance.

"Let us simply say that our people have persevered for a long time. We have great poets and artists, and we have even managed to maintain memories of their work through the Burning Time." Phutu added. "We have a faith that has only grown and flowered through our trials—"

"Despite the failure of your gods to—"

That was it. Sheppard smacked McKay on the shoulder. "Mosquito," he said.

"In the heat of the day," Phutu said drily. "How unusual! We are sorry."

"Carson! Malaria medicine!" Rodney snapped his fingers.

"The dose I gave you yesterday is for a week," Carson said with a sigh.

"Dinner approaches," Catari said.

"I think she means let's get back to business," Sheppard translated gratefully. "I got it: you were a great civilization—"

"So you think we _owe_ you help?" Rodney asked. Sheppard was really, really tempted to raise his hand and say, "Damn, is that another mosquito?" but Weir was going to ream him anyway once she heard about the first hit (and Rodney wouldn't forget).

"No," said Phutu. "We believe we can be of mutual assistance."

"How?" Ronon asked bluntly. 

"Our traders keep a low profile, but they travel widely," Phutu said.

"Intelligence," Teyla said, which seemed appropriate, as she was making better use of hers than anyone else on John's side of the table.

"You have need. We have—"

"Prove it," Ronon interrupted Phutu. John could feel tension thrumming through the big man, though he was sitting very still—or maybe because he was sitting so still.

"I can tell you where several survivors from the devastation on Olesia have gone," Phutu said. "I can tell you of a planet where the people pretend to be farmers but—"

"The Genii?" Rodney waved a hand in front of Phutu's face. "Hello, you're a good year and a half too late for that to be useful!" 

"You are currently in an uneasy alliance with the Genii," Phutu replied, unfazed. "No, these people of whom I speak pretend to farm, but the whole society, small as it is, consists of Wraith worshippers. They spy, and the Wraith bring them more than they ever grow."

"Now _that's_ useful," Sheppard said.

"Gate address?" Rodney demanded, snapping his fingers.

Phutu looked puzzled.

"Doctor McKay asks how you get there through the Ring," Teyla said mildly.

Rodney whipped out a paper notebook and a mechanical pencil and shoved it across the table. 

Catari looked at the paper and pencil with distaste. "We will share the information when we have an agreement."

"We will have an _agreement_ when you've shown you have something of value!"

"Doctor McKay is not a diplomat," Sheppard said with a glare at his teammate, still managing not to smack him again. "But I'm inclined to agree with his point."

Phutu nodded. "Fair enough." He pushed the materials to Catari.

"You're the intelligence chief?" Rodney spluttered.

Catari raised an eyebrow, held his gaze for a moment, and then bent to write. "Your implement does not work," she said, scratching on the page.

Hands extended across the table; Teyla beat Rodney to it and took the pencil with a smile, clicked the lead out, and managed to look gracious the whole time. Of course, almost anybody at the same table with McKay would look gracious just by contrast.

"And in return, you want us to...do what?" Sheppard asked. "Help you with the weapons?"

"Help us destroy the weapons safely," Phutu said.

"A Jumper would help," the chief scientist returned. 

Catari sighed audibly and shoved the notebook and pencil in Rodney's face with a complete Gate address.

"Huh," said Rodney. "We'll have to check that out."

"We must tell you," Phutu continued, "that we have conditions."

"Of course you do."

"McKay!" Sheppard barked.

Phutu continued calmly, "We have given in to the temptation of technology again ourselves. We wish you to limit your use of it so that we do not keep repeating the same mistakes. You must not leave any technology here, and you will not train our people in your ways."

Rodney looked about to go off, but John held up a hand, and, amazingly, he didn't say anything.

The old man added, "Perhaps if we had not tried to turn back to our old ways, we would not have so many sick and injured." 

"Five?" Carson asked in obvious surprise. "That's—not so many...."

"We were not the only ones to try to recover weapons from the ruins of our past," Kana explained. She looked to the others, who nodded. "Telexos had a significant accident involving explosives." She went on to explain that Telexos was two weeks away by sailing ship, and that more than thirty had been killed outright and many times that injured; "they did not evacuate the area before they tried to move the devices!"

"Idiots," Catari added in an undertone. John was beginning to think Catari and Rodney had a lot in common. If only Rodney spoke as rarely as the old lady, his attitude might be a lot easier to take.

"They have not asked help. They merely sent to warn us." Kana gave a hollow laugh. "Their messenger arrived the day before your Major Lorne, and served only to confirm our decision to ask for help. The news came too late to stop our own ill-advised attempt to recover weapons."

"Ah," Carson said, though John couldn't see that the information helped much.

"We survived the previous Wraith culling the same way we will survive this one." Phutu was confident but not arrogant. "We have a highly dispersed population with strong local leadership. As guardians of the Gate, we are in the greatest danger, but we also have a great advantage." He raised his hands prayerfully. 

Was he indicating their gods?

"Wraith Darts cannot do their work from too far away," Phutu went on. He tilted his head back. "Or too high."

Rodney's head shot up, despite the fact that they could only see the roof of the pavilion. "The trees! They can't get the Darts close enough to the ground in this jungle!" He frowned. "They can land on the beach." 

Phutu nodded. "The trees in the jungle are actually tall enough and widely spaced enough, but this forest provides the right height. We are safe under these trees." He paused, then continued, "We believe that the Wraith are not too distant from our planet, and we must tell you what we do during an attack if you are to spend any more time here."

"We fight," said Ronon simply.

"We do _not_ fight," Kana said sharply to Ronon. "And more importantly, _you_ do not fight. They destroyed our technology. If they think we have rebuilt, our planet will end up like Sateda!"

"You may not use your weapons against Wraith," Phutu said mildly.

"No way we're agreeing to that!" Rodney said even before John and Ronon.

Phutu spoke with authority. "We hide under the trees in the forest," he reiterated. "They are high enough and too dense for the Wraith to fly among them. Where the trees are taller and sparser, they can fly under the canopy but well above the undergrowth. So if you are out in the jungle, run for the lower trees."

"Oh, great!" Rodney snapped.

Phutu fixed him with his gaze. "Our village escaped the last culling nearly unscathed! We lost some lookouts—our signal men and women and the ones guarding the water. We lost a handful of others. Scores survived! You lie flat on the ground. They cannot get under the canopy; they cannot suck you off the planet as they do elsewhere.

"If you are in the water or on the beach, you hide among the jamachi."

So _that_ was why they trained them to be friendly.

"My God," Rodney said. "Their lifesigns look enough like yours? But then why aren't the Wraith picking up the penguins instead of you?"

"They seem to stand in clusters," Carson observed. "A human in the middle must not be detectable, and the Wraith wouldn't want to scoop up a bunch of penguins."

Catari eyed them severely. "We cannot send them among the jamachi! Except perhaps her." She jerked her head at Teyla.

Phutu shook his head. "I think it very unlikely that you will be here during an attack, but we cannot let them see you. It is better you hide among the birds than you be taken. They can take the knowledge of who we are from our heads."

Damn. John hated it when people said something bad was "unlikely" or "improbable." There were times when he preferred truly superstitious people. They were less likely to jinx themselves—and his team.

"And they may pull more from your minds. You do not trust us. You suspect we are like the Genii," Kana said matter-of-factly. "The Wraith would as well, if they captured you. We might have the same suspicion, in your position," she added, as if that made it all right.

Catari continued, "If you lie under the trees, you will be safe. If you try to use your weapons, you imperil yourselves and others. You will not be able to hit a flying Dart with what you have. And you know that we have enough bowmen to shoot you all if you try anything."

"So that's what they're there for," Ronon said. "But you should know: we can bring down a Dart."

Yeah, with a grenade- or rocket-launcher, Sheppard thought—which they weren't carrying at the moment.

Phutu picked up where Kana had left off. "And spread out; they can locate clusters of humans. If they could pick us out from the jamachi, they would do so. But those they can see as a group. When they see one or two beings, we believe they cannot tell whether they see a human, or jamachi, or titi. Some have seen animals snatched in the Dart beams."

"Titi—those are the cats, right?" Sheppard asked. "They're like jaguars, I think," he told Teyla and Carson.

"That's why you build your huts so far apart!" Carson announced triumphantly. "If the Darts come unexpectedly, you'll only have small clusters of life signs to begin."

"He is the smartest they have?" asked Catari with distaste.

"Uh, no, actually, _I_ am," Rodney said, clearly insulted.

Kana plowed ahead. "Wait until they go away from the Ring and then _return_. The Darts will fly out seeking people, and then they will eventually go back through the Ring."

"Well, duh." 

Carson looked like he was considering smacking Rodney now, too.

"So do the Darts go until they find people who are not under trees?" Teyla asked, frowning.

"Presumably," Kana answered.

"That's why you gotta shoot 'em down," Ronon said.

"If you can shoot them, they can take you," Catari said with disdain. "Other parts of our world have other...other ways to hide and escape. I will not tell you them."

"We can guess," said Rodney, and John thought of the Genii tunnels.

"Good for you," said Catari contemptuously.

Sheppard crossed his arms. "I'm not willing to give my word in advance on what we'll do if the Wraith come. If they're above the trees and we're safely under them, of _course_ we're not going to try to shoot them down! That would just attract their attention without accomplishing anything. If they land on the beach and come through the rocks, we're shooting."

"That's what we have archers for," Catari said tartly.

"And that's why we have weapons." Sheppard tapped his P90. "If they don't make it back, they won't be telling anyone what they saw—or what shot them."

The elders looked at each other.

"Trouble in paradise," Rodney said. 

"Rodney?" Carson got his attention. "Shut up for once!" The doctor was almost whispering, but they were all sitting too close together for anyone to fail to hear him.

"Hey, I—"

"McKay?" Sheppard said. "Shut up."

"They cannot land in great numbers on the beach." Catari gave a wolfish smile. "The beach has short stretches of sand and long stretches of _rocks_." 

John was glad he hadn't seen her smile before. When he'd met her the day before, he thought she looked like the kind of little old lady who drove her car too slow on the highway in front of you. Now she looked like the kind who'd knife you to get your motorcycle and then speed away on it. Not that he actually knew any little old ladies like that.

The leaders took some time apart to confer. Rodney spent it arguing with the others. John hated to admit it, but these people had a point. If Wraith came, they couldn't shoot down all the Darts; using the cover of the trees seemed as good a chance as any, and it came without the risk of the Wraith deciding the Jaqui had more technology than they really did.

The Jaqui leaders came back to the table and agreed to Sheppard's terms. The team would not shoot unless Wraith were on foot and immediately threatening. Their first defense would be to lie under the trees, like the natives did. They would keep technology to a minimum so the Wraith would not notice it; any Jumper they brought would have to be well hidden, and it could only be brought after proper scouting and approval.

John was a little surprised at how fast they agreed, but then, these people were sitting on a stockpile of deadly gas. Another group on their planet had been harmed by explosives. Atlantis could help them find and remove these dangers; if the Jaqui tried it themselves, there would only be more casualties.

A plan developed—subject to approval by Elizabeth, of course. Carson thought they could best dispose of the gas by bringing it to one of the space Gates, spacing it, and then opening a wormhole to destroy it, which did seem pretty thorough. Phutu would allow a Jumper search over his territory and send to ask other leaders if they would allow it; then they'd know if there were traces of technology the Wraith could find, and they might find other hot spots, either to avoid or to eliminate by destroying the danger. 

In return, the Jaqui would share intelligence. It didn't seem like a good trade for Atlantis, but Carson and Teyla seemed determined to help these people, and they had enough enemies in the Pegasus galaxy. Sheppard didn't want to turn his back on people who needed help, even if the exchange didn't end up being equal.

Of course, such an agreement would require Elizabeth's approval, so John begged off dinner to return and consult.

Somehow McKay and Beckett didn't quite grasp at first that they _all_ had to return, but he was sure as hell not splitting up the team. And, damn it, if he was gonna walk all the way back to the Gate in the late afternoon heat, so were they.

If only he could think of an excuse to gag them, he thought an hour or so later....


	5. Chapter 5

It was lovely to be able to shower before the meeting with Elizabeth, and Carson would surely enjoy sleeping in his own quarters before they headed back—and he knew they'd be heading back. He'd spent a chunk of the walk back convincing Rodney that their scans for technology might turn up something useful, and since the Jaqui obviously didn't want it, anything useful they found could presumably be brought back to Atlantis—once its safety was assured. He didn't have to argue awfully hard, now that he thought about it. Rodney might complain about the heat, the insects, and the lack of gadgets on the planet, but, like everyone else on Atlantis, he had been worn down by the reversals they'd suffered over the last couple of years. He didn't really want to miss an opportunity to do some good that shouldn't cost them much at all.

Meetings with Colonel Sheppard's team were...unpredictable. Sometimes everyone stuck to the point, and with Ronon talking as if he had to pay for every word and Teyla concise herself, they could be mercifully short.

Or Rodney could start talking. 

This meeting started out more like the former kind. Everyone but Ronon had argued in favor of helping the Jaqui, and Ronon had no major objections. Of course, the meeting might have been even shorter had not Rodney launched some crack about surfing. Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, and she asked how large a role _that_ played in the Colonel's desire to offer assistance. 

But then Ronon said, "Yeah, the surfing almost made up for the heat and the bugs," catching both him and Rodney as they scratched some bites. Carson was mortified; he had been telling Rodney for over a day not to scratch, and he wasn't even aware he was doing it himself until all eyes were suddenly on him.

And Rodney started in on him until Teyla decided to distract everyone by explaining to Doctor Weir the Jaqui outlook on life and civilization. That seemed like a good plan.

Until Sheppard starting singing, not quite under his breath, "Civilization, it's all about knives and forks."

Teyla was apparently used to this sort of behavior and didn't stop talking, but Rodney suddenly asked loudly, "So what does that mean for our hosts? They gave us sporks!"

"What is a...spork?" Teyla frowned. Oh, the lass was lost now. Rodney and Sheppard immediately launched simultaneous, but different, explanations. Carson was amazed they had gotten this far without ever introducing her to sporks.

And how hard could it be to explain a spork?

"Gentlemen!" Doctor Weir had the sense to cut them off. "Threat assessment?"

Ronon growled slightly. "I don't trust them."

"Which is good," Sheppard said with a slight smile, "because if he _did_ trust them, I'd have Doc here checking for that herb Lucius used."

"Of which, may I remind you, Carson was the first victim!" Rodney contributed.

Carson started cover his face with his hands and nearly missed Rodney jumping for no apparent reason. Sheppard, seated next to McKay, smiled across the table at Carson. Had Sheppard actually kicked the man?

"Oh, and he hit me in front of their tribal elders!" Rodney said with a scowl and an accusing finger pointed towards Sheppard.

Carson buried his face in his hands completely and tried to ignore the next several exchanges.

"It seems too good to be true," Sheppard finally said. "If anything, I'm most suspicious about that. They're _happy_ living without technology. They like to live in small groups, they say. They say they have nature and art and literature, they're healthy and happy, and they just have this little problem of these weapons lying around that they want to get rid of."

Carson chipped in about Challa's desire for better medicines, but that didn't help much.

Elizabeth listened thoughtfully. Eventually, she agreed with most of them that the job was doable and offered a minimal threat, if an uncertain return. If they couldn't load the mustard gas into a Jumper, they could have the Daedalus there in less than a week. Carson had been nearest the site where the gas was, but he was dubious a Jumper could land anywhere near the stockpile, and Wayu hadn't been encouraging when he'd tried to ask about clearings. They'd have to look more when they returned.

Major Lorne's team would be sent through the Stargate in a cloaked Jumper to the reported planet of the Wraith worshippers, since they'd presumably be watching the Gate but might figure that if they saw nothing coming through, it was some kind of malfunction.

Rodney tried to argue that his expertise wouldn't do any good on the planet and he should be excused from the next outing, but Doctor Weir insisted that the team had established good relations with the Jaqui, and it would be their mission. She seemed to include Carson with the team. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He'd known he wouldn't be let out of any return visit.

They'd all have to walk back, and decide if the Jumper should land, and where; Doctor Weir urged them not to introduce too much technology, and everyone agreed with that, though Rodney did so grudgingly. 

As they left, Rodney followed him down the corridor.

"You know, Carson, I've been thinking," Rodney said in a deliberately offhand manner.

"Heaven help us," Carson muttered.

"You can get DNA samples while you're treating the patients! Easiest thing in the world."

Carson shook his head. He didn't want to get into another damned argument with Rodney McKay. He wanted needed to check in at the infirmary. Then he needed dinner. And then he would go back to his quarters and sleep before having another proper shower in the morning. He liked showers. He liked beds. He liked being at home.

"Just because they're a bunch of Luddites doesn't mean—"

"No," Carson said simply. "I agreed not to do it, and I'm not going to steal DNA samples."

"You agreed? I'm just asking, 'cause I don't actually remember you agreeing. I remember you telling me to shut up, but I don't remember you saying, 'I will not take any DNA samples.'" Rodney held his right hand in a mock oath.

Carson stopped and looked at Rodney. Sometimes a look was enough.

"I mean, the benefits—"

Usually, though, it wasn't enough. He shook his head again. "I can't promise any benefits. Certainly not to them; they might not even accept my help if I _could_ do something with the information I got."

"They took your antibiotics, didn't they? And the malaria medication?"

Carson turned back the way he was going and started walking again. "I don't want to have this argument, Rodney. I don't want to have any argument. I'll be having a late dinner as it is; I need to take care of a few things at the infirmary right now."

"I just don't see what the problem is!" He waved his arms for emphasis.

"The problem," Carson began. But he couldn't say 'the problem is that you won't leave me alone,' and certainly not 'the problem is that I have spent far too many hours with you the last two days.' As insensitive as Rodney often was to others, he did have feelings, and he could have them hurt, sometimes a lot easier than people thought. 

So Carson stopped again, though he didn't want to, and looked Rodney in the eye to persuade him to drop the matter. "The problem is that I've already crossed far too many ethical lines. I say, 'This girl wants to have a _human_ life; what could possibly be wrong with that?' Or, 'The Wraith shouldn't exist; what if I could make them like us, and we could all live together and not eat each other?' Then the girl dies, but after nearly taking you with her, and then I have Colonel Sheppard turning into a bug, and then I'm experimenting on a patient against his will, and next thing you know I'm developing a weapon to turn one group of aliens into _food_ for another!" 

Rodney had visibly taken a step back, but Carson couldn't quite stop himself. "But it doesn't even stop there, because our final attempt to save them led to losing several of our people and then _blasting the survivors_!" 

Rodney swallowed. "Um, I thought we, had, uh, talked about...."

Carson turned away and saw a few people in the hall suddenly resume motion too. He'd gotten loud, and people had stopped to listen, and he hadn't even noticed. Another great way to win the confidence of people who would no doubt be his patients one day, if they weren't already. He had really meant to keep calm. He shook his head and started walking.

Rodney was still beside him. "I'm not trying to get you to do anything like that!"

"You're trying to get me to work on genetic material I've been forbidden to collect," Carson said tiredly. 

Rodney stammered some more and finally got out, "I guess I didn't think of it, well, like that."

"Well, now you have." They'd reached the transporter. "And unless you want to have another exam today, I suggest—"

Rodney held up his hands in surrender. "I'm going! I'm—I'm sorry. Forget I—just forget it, okay?" 

Carson smiled a little. "I think I can manage that." Actually, he had little doubt he wouldn't forget. But maybe it was for the best. While he couldn't blame the others, he had to admit that he'd made his worst mistakes with their active encouragement, and he needed to know that he could say no to them when it was necessary.

And he needed to _keep_ saying no when it was necessary.

*****

Sheppard was surprised at that the Jaqui had agreed to their terms, though he supposed Beckett was right about their backs being to the wall with weapons they had no idea how to handle safely. But hell, Ronon had as good as promised that he _would_ fight back! Sheppard sincerely hoped the Wraith wouldn't visit the planet for a long time to come. And what he'd said was true. Those trees high enough that any Darts flying above them would be out of reach of their weapons, even Ronon's big-ass gun, and thick enough that Sheppard couldn't imagine getting a Dart _or_ a Jumper through them. He was really dubious they'd even find a landing site near the gas.

Of course, Ronon might start climbing trees to get closer to the Darts, and Sheppard didn't want to think where that would end up.

It did sound plausible, though, that most of these people could escape just by lying down—unless and until the Wraith decided to burn down the jungle. But it was so humid, it wouldn't burn well, would it? It might take a lot of shooting to clear a place to land. And Kana was probably right. It wasn't worth their trouble. They would look elsewhere, and if the humans were easier picking in some other part of the world, well, too bad for them. If they weren't, the Wraith had lots of other planets. They generally did hit and run, coming back only if they found a large population on their first attack.

So much for this world as a utopia. It was more like every man, woman, and child for himself or herself. No working together—just throw yourself under a tree and hope they didn't go for _you_.

People did a lot to survive in this galaxy. Some of it, he could see. Some of it, he couldn't. These people seemed to have made a better choice than Hoff, though. So far, anyway. Possibly better than the Genii; these people hadn't given their own cancer, and they weren't shooting themselves in the foot by betraying potential allies. Yet, anyway.

Sheppard had just started for the commissary when Rodney McKay came barreling towards him like a man on a mission. That usually meant trouble. Couldn't they just have a nice quiet dinner at home?

"Colonel!" 

He braced himself. He hoped it wasn't more about why they _should_ be using more technology on the Jaqui planet. "Problem, Rodney?" 

"No—well, not if, um. You, uh," Rodney was glancing to either side of Sheppard's head. Always a bad sign. "You know that little comedy routine you and Conan pulled this afternoon?" He managed to focus on Sheppard's face.

Well, this wasn't what John had expected. "Oh, I thought that was _your_ show. You and Beckett." 

"Ha ha. I just wanted to, um...." He straightened and threw back his shoulders. "Look, you know, I really don't care what people think about me. They're gonna think what they want to think anyway. And the people who matter, they know I'm not...." He faltered.

"Gay?" Sheppard grinned. He really didn't expect McKay to bring this up again, but since the other man had mentioned it....

"Yeah. Well, but see, Carson, he has trouble.... The man hasn't had a date in weeks. Maybe months. When did he and Cadman break up? Anyway, he doesn't need to have to deal with your nonsense."

McKay rocked on his toes. Sheppard tried to put a straight face back on.

"So just, just don't repeat that whole business. Especially with what you and Ronon—you know, we really _were_ talking about Laurel and Hardy."

"So which one are you, anyway?" Sheppard couldn't help asking, even if he wasn't quite seeing it.

"Oh, knock it off! Look, don't say anything—"

"And nobody gets hurt?" Sheppard smirked. It was just too easy to bait Rodney.

Rodney shook a finger at John. "Hey, I happen to know that Laura Cadman is still _very_ fond of Carson. And you really don't want to go up against her."

"You're threatening me with _Cadman_?" It boggled the mind. "Hey, wait a minute—is that how Sergeant Cooper ended up in the infirmary?" Cadman had been really apologetic about that one. Maybe excessively apologetic, although dislocating a guy's jaw did generally call for being really sorry. Cooper's jaw supposedly got derailed in an accident during advanced hand-to-hand training. But Cooper was known as a gossip, and the "accident" had happened at about the same time somehow everybody on Atlantis heard that Cadman and Beckett had split—along with some highly improbable versions of why they broke up.

"Cooper? Who's Cooper?" Rodney's voice went up a little, and he was talking too fast. Was that irritation, or an attempt to cover up what he knew? Rodney could be so readable sometimes, but he had so damned much going on in his head that other times, you could see a reaction and not know what he was reacting _to_. "I think you're missing the point, Colonel!"

"The point being that _Lieutenant_ Cadman is gonna _assault_ me if I cast aspersions on her ex-boyfriend's sexual orientation?" 

Rodney's head whipped around, clearly checking to see who had heard. Sheppard had been careful; he'd pitched his voice low, and no one was that close. It was fun to mess with Rodney, but he really didn't want to make life any more difficult for the CMO than it already was. After all, the poor man had Rodney as a friend. He had enough worries right there, as Sheppard well knew. He counted Rodney as a friend too.

"No, of course not!" Rodney replied, lowering his voice. "After all, she's a demolitions expert, too." McKay smirked and walked away while John struggled to come up with a suitable response.

Damn! How did the man do that? John thought he'd been ahead right up to the very end!

Then he smiled. "Hey, Rodney," he called triumphantly. 

Rodney hesitated, then turned.

"What are you gonna tell Ronon?" He grinned widely as Rodney spun on his heel and walked away.

*****

Verifying that Olesian survivors were on the world Catari had indicated could take a few days; they needed to be cautious, whether the survivors were from among the prisoners or the residents of the city they'd visited. However, Lorne's team took a botanist and an anthropologist in a cloaked Jumper and quickly verified that the planet of alleged Wraith-worshippers indeed seemed to be growing awfully little food for their population. So the mission was on. They had one day back on Atlantis to stock up on everything they needed, particularly the solution to neutralize mustard gas and its residue. They couldn't carry enough to handle large amounts, but it should be enough to clean off the biohazard suits before they took them off.

The following morning arrived all too soon. Carson enjoyed sleeping in his bed, the product of a highly technological society, and he really enjoyed the shower. He'd take showers and the lower chance of surviving, he thought, rather than give up technology.

They were met at the Gate not by Taban, but by a lithe young woman who introduced herself as Yuyu. The corners of Rodney's mouth immediately twitched upwards.

"Is that a mosquito, Rodney?" Colonel Sheppard asked, raising a hand, and the would-be smile vanished.

The top of Yuyu's head didn't make it to Carson's collarbone, but the woman set a pace worse than Taban's, and Carson could swear they weren't taking the same route as they had last time. There was again no visible path. Their packs, laden with a concentrated cleansing solution, were even heavier than last time. Conversation dropped off quickly, and after about twenty minutes, Ronon asked over his shoulder, "What, no complaints today?"

Teyla chuckled, and Carson figured it was safest not to reply.

"I'm sure we'll get plenty later," Sheppard called out, and Carson was glad to hear he sounded a little out of breath.

The village seemed busier than last time, and they were again welcomed with an early lunch. This time, their company included a few children.

"I guess they finally trust us enough to let their kids near us," Sheppard muttered to Carson afterwards. "I saw some playing as we walked around, but they always ran away from us."

Challa greeted Carson warmly at the pavilion. "Kana too is interested in negotiating for your drugs," he told Carson almost as soon as they'd sat down—to a loud snort from a few seats further on.

"My cousin is still learning the fine art of negotiation," Kana called over from where she had for some reason taken over assuring Rodney that there was no citrus in each dish.

"I leave that to you, Kana," the young man called back. "Why would I want to do _that_?" he asked Carson in a lower tone. "Do you know how much time she spends in _meetings_?" 

Carson had to laugh. "And here I thought bureaucracy was the bane of more—um—well, more technologically advanced...." He let the thought peter out as he tried to figure out if he was actually insulting the Jaqui or not.

Challa laughed too. "If only that were true! The elders met in council less when I was a child, but since the Wraith have been reawakened, they meet quite often." His eyes widened. "Oh! I apologize; I should not—perhaps Kana is correct, and I should learn some diplomacy."

So they did know that the Lanteans had awakened the Wraith. Carson hadn't really doubted it, but he hadn't expected that was known outside of the elders, either.

Carson hastened to change the subject. "So are you going up with us today to see the...other patients?"

The smile left Challa's face slowly. "No," he said. "I am 'too young,' Kana tells me. As if Jalli and Suchi were not _younger_ than I am!"

Carson shook his head. It wouldn't do to tell Challa that his cousin was just concerned for him, when that was no doubt what irked him. "They are young," he agreed instead. "It's a shame to see them injured so."

"They are scientists; they were doing their jobs," said Challa impatiently. "I just want to do mine! I should be up there, _learning_ about this new toxin—and how to treat it."

"I hope we can make that a pointless exercise," Carson told him sincerely. "I never want you to have to treat anyone for mustard gas."

Challa frowned. "We should be so lucky. The curse of the past will never entirely be lifted; the mistakes we made cannot be fully erased."

Carson wished he could tell the boy it wasn't true, that mistakes could be obliterated, but he knew from his own experience that many were never expunged. "Maybe not—but this one mistake, maybe _that_ can be removed, even if it has already done some harm."

Challa seemed satisfied with that answer, and soon they were finishing their rather rushed lunch. 

Phutu sent them on their way with Yuyu and Kana. Carson wanted to recheck the gas victims first and then examine the site. They all brought biohazard gear, even Ronon, though Carson had been hard put to find a suit that would fit him—and a helmet big enough for the man's hair.

"So you haven't brought the patients back yet?" he asked Kana. "Challa seemed to know; have you told—"

"We have told everyone," she interrupted. "We simply have not had the opportunity to move the patients yet."

"Perhaps we could help," Carson offered. "If we do find a place to land a Jumper—"

Yuyu snorted from the front of the line. "How very generous of you."

"Yuyu!" Kana admonished.

"Carson shouldn't be volunteering the rest of us for stuff anyway," Rodney said.

"He's not volunteering _you_ if he's talking about a Jumper," Sheppard observed.

"He's been volunteering _all_ of us this whole time! Why the hell am I here? I don't know anything about mustard gas! I have work to do on the McKay-Carter—I have my own work to do!"

"You do know a few things about chemical and biological warfare, Rodney," Carson said carefully. He'd already opened enough old wounds with his argument two days ago. 

Rodney had helped Radek and Carson make the anti-Wraith virus into a weapon. Carson was still bitterly disappointed in himself for ever cooperating with the plan. Rodney insisted the Wraith really would have wiped out Atlantis, and they'd have pulled the information they needed for the weapon from their minds before killing them, and they probably would have made it to Earth with the knowledge they'd gained from Rodney. Carson wasn't sure about that. He had heard Radek refer to McKay as "Doctor Worst-Case Scenario" more than once.

Rodney was still talking to the Jaqui. Carson hadn't been paying attention and wasn't sure what he was going on about now, but he had certainly irritated their guide.

"Yes," Yuyu said sarcastically. "You are helping us. You are helping us so that you may learn more about us, see if we have anything worth stealing—"

"We don't steal," said Ronon and Sheppard together.

"Very well. Anything worth _sharing_." Kana joined in, siding with the other woman and giving a thin smile herself, looking straight at Carson.

"If it's about your DNA," he growled, "I'm not taking that. We've discussed it."

"You discussed stealing it?" asked Yuyu.

"As a matter of fact—"

"Rodney!" Carson couldn't believe the man.

"We did. I was on the stealing side, by the way." The idiot held up his hand and waved it. "But Carson here isn't going to steal it, and _I'm_ not gonna steal it, because he'd just destroy it if I did, and he'd probably want me to apologize or something. None of us are gonna steal it."

"Thanks, Rodney, that's really helpful!" Sheppard was glaring at both of them, which was hardly fair to Carson.

Kana smiled unexpectedly. "I believe you."

Yuyu snorted.

"I do not believe Doctor McKay is a good liar," Kana continued. Was that why she'd been chummy with him at lunch?

"Hey!" Rodney, seeing glares from all sides, temporarily shut up.

It was a relief to arrive at the makeshift hospital and find Wayu greeting them cheerfully. The patients were all doing well; Carson didn't need much time to see that. Four of them would definitely have scars, and they would probably all have compromised lung function for the rest of their lives. But they would live, and they would all have at least some of their sight. They were responding well to the new antibiotics, and Wayu had begun allowing them some exercise outside the hut, which had definitely helped their moods already. He had brought stronger cough medicine than they'd been using, but they really didn't seem to need it. They had improved even since the day before.

*****

Sheppard watched as the doc went into the hut to check on the patients. 

"We got more shadows than ever," Ronon said quietly in his ear.

"Yeah, I noticed. How many?" 

"I count six. But they seem—I dunno. Not as good."

"Second string shadows? Maybe because they're less worried about us now?" Sheppard tried to smile.

"She knows," Ronon said with a tilt of his head toward their teammate.

Teyla was standing near the entrance to the little hut with Rodney, who was peering in the door and generally being nosy, no doubt.

"Good."

"These people are crazy," Ronon added conversationally. "You know that, right?"

"I'm not sure they're any crazier than we are."

Ronon looked towards the hut again, and then he nodded.

Carson came out smiling. Sheppard felt a little relief, but it wasn't enough to get rid of the overall bad feeling.

"You know, our previous guide was annoying, but he didn't outright hate our guts," said Rodney as the team formed up again. 

"At least we know where we stand with this one," Sheppard said, but he wasn't sure it was true. He wasn't sure how much of her anger was aimed at his people and how much was aimed back at those who had made the decision to ask them for help. Maybe she didn't like off-worlders taking their stuff. Maybe she just didn't trust them.

Yuyu and Kana helped them fill the water packs they'd brought empty; they left such things as MREs and extra equipment at the hospital to be able to take the extra weight. Neither side was pleased; Rodney didn't like leaving MREs and _his_ stuff, and Sheppard hated to leave _anything_ of theirs among these people they were still getting to know. Rodney offered to stay and stand guard, but they all just rolled their eyes; he had to go down with Carson so they'd have all the trained fighters in the group above to guard them. The Jaqui frowned at the pile they left in the healer's hut as if they thought it might explode—which did make sense, Sheppard had to admit, based on their recent experience of technology. He hoped that would keep them from touching.

*****

Carson wished they'd spent more time at the hospital as they started on yet another hike towards the weapons.

They were assured the spot was only twenty minutes away, but that was twenty minutes the way Yuyu walked, and Carson's legs were ready to drop off. He was afraid the Jaqui would argue when he told them to let him and the others walk the last two minutes alone, but Yuyu told him when they reached that point, and neither she nor Kana showed any signs of wanting to go farther. They left some of the water with them and mixed up the sodium hypochlorite solution that would neutralized leaking gas, pouring it into the unwieldy spray packs that Carson and Rodney would take into the pit—while wearing the damnable biohazard gear. He hated it, but he hated the alternative worse.

"We have two guards at the site," Kana told him as they finished. "They have already been alerted to your arrival. They will move well away when you tell them. They have covered the entrance to the pit with dirt over a piece of wood. They will show you where."

"Before they leave, presumably," Rodney said in a way that left little doubt his concern was not for the guards.

"You will find a ladder inside. It should all be as our patients described." She smiled tightly at Carson and put her hands on his shoulders and bowed her head in a gesture not unlike the Athosian greeting and farewell, but without the forehead touching. "May the Mother and Father protect and cherish you."

Carson smiled back, though she seemed a touch anxious. He was a good deal more anxious than she was. Then he told the others, "All right: time for the biohazard gear." 

Rodney complained, of course, and Carson was sure he'd complain all the way down. Carson had the medical scanner and all the chemical data he'd been able to gather; Rodney was to assist, especially in checking the containers. He had his own scanner. Ronon, Teyla, and Colonel Sheppard would guard the site from above, all in hazmat gear themselves in case any more gas leaked out. They prepared their own spray packs as well.

All too soon they were there. The guards moved away with some relief. The scans up top proved clean, and those who were staying above ground put their spray packs carefully to one side until they were needed. Ronon easily moved enough dirt to pick up the big piece of wood and just dump it to one side. Carson thought Rodney whimpered a little, but he might have imagined it. Carson leaned into the hole and held the scanner in.

"Next to nothing registers in the air, at least. If one container leaked when they were last here, the gas will have broken down by now." He didn't feel any need to mention that any leaked liquid might well have soaked into the soil; such liquid brought its own problems, but even that shouldn't be a threat through the biohazard suits.

He led the way down the metal ladder, as agreed, with Rodney holding a torch at the top. The ladder seemed strong enough—it had taken the weight of those who had been injured just a week or so ago—but he didn't like using it. He didn't like going _down_ there. He clicked on his own torch at the bottom and felt claustrophobic. The place was a cave, even if it was a manmade cave. He'd never been fond of caves anyway—and last time he'd been in one, he'd given in to fear, and he'd lost a patient who should by all rights be alive.

Then Carson was standing with piles of containers holding toxic gas less than a meter away on either side. The walls seemed to be metal too, as expected. There must have been a metal hatch once, but it was gone, and the wall behind the ladder was water-stained and had something growing on it. Along the wall, there was space to walk beside the shelves full of what looked like plastic boxes. The top shelves were nearly two meters up, and there were several little containers in almost every row. It boggled the mind; how much gas had they produced? His patients had been sadly mistaken about the amount! "Bloody hell," he couldn't help murmuring.

Two containers were on the ground by the shelves; they looked carefully placed, but they had not been put back in the empty spaces on the top shelf. Those must be the ones Jalli put back. He scanned them, but the levels of gas he found were fairly low; whatever had escaped seemed to have dissipated. He was glad the rest of the team was in proper gear, but he was a little surprised they'd been able to station guards above without injury. Maybe they hadn't put them so close right away.

Carson and the team had brought as much sodium hypochlorite as they could pack, but even with the packs the others had overhead, they could only neutralize a small amount of the substance in case they found a few leaking containers. Carson wasn't truly prepared to deal with something like this.

Rodney joined him. "Oh, my God." They looked at each other, and Carson walked to the wall and turned right. Rodney followed. Carson's torch revealed row after row of the shelves.


	6. Chapter 6

John, Ronon, and Teyla were walking the perimeter, weapons ready, but they sure as hell better not need them with toxic gas around. John hated sending civilians into danger alone. He should have gone first, but that would mean only two people defending the hole, and that was even less safe. Beckett and McKay weren't even wearing their sidearms because they couldn't possibly shoot in the hole even if a Wraith showed up down there; the risk of puncturing a container and releasing the gas was too great. Five people had been injured by gas in containers that apparently didn't even show any damage. They weren't sure how much of the stuff there was or just how concentrated it might be, so even with the biohazard suits, they weren't taking any chances.

Exclamations from McKay and Beckett came over his suit's comm, and John wanted to bang their heads together. Their combined IQ had to be over 300, but he knew seven-year-olds with better sense and self-preservation skills.

"What do you see?" Sheppard asked over his suit's comm.

"One heck of a lot of poisonous gas!" Rodney answered, and Carson threw in another swear word.

"I don't like all this cursing," Sheppard's disembodied voice said in his ear.

"Well, pardon our language! But we're not gonna fit this stuff in a Jumper!" Rodney replied much too loudly.

When Rodney had finished yelling, Carson told him just a little more calmly, "I think it'd fill at least two Jumpers, Colonel! It's clearly a job for the Daedalus. My patients were simply wrong; maybe they just had one of those little horn lamps and they didn't realize how far back it goes on each side?" His voice wavered at the end.

Sheppard didn't need to hear excuses for people he'd never even met. He didn't care whether they'd lied or made a mistake. "Have you found how they got gassed?"

"I'm only reading low levels at the moment, if that's what you mean. But these containers weren't meant to last for centuries, Colonel," the doctor's voice answered, now firmly under control. "We've got molds growing down here; some water has gotten in, and some soil."

Was that motion in the trees?

"The soil here is slightly acidic," the doctor continued. "Add all the rain, for God knows how long, and the plastics on at least the lowest shelves have been subjected to acid! If they bumped anything when they were taking stock...."

Part of Sheppard's mind was still registering what the doctor was saying, but most of it was damned sure something was coming towards them. Those big cats? Or something human?

"We're setting beacons for the Daedalus to get a fix on the load," Carson went on.

Suddenly a rustling sounded behind him, and he spun around. Ronon was wrestling off his hood.

"What the hell are you doing, Ronon?" he asked.

"Colonel?" came two male voices over the comm.

"Can't hear!" Ronon growled, dropping the hood to his feet as he raised his gun.

Orders usually worked with Dex. When they didn't, nothing did. But he shouted anyway: "Ronon, get that—!" 

Ronon's left hand in the air cut him off. Then Ronon threw himself sideways and to the ground, shouting, "Down!"

John dropped and aimed his weapon. "Crossbows," Ronon called. "I think our guards have been picked off."

Something punched into John's back, hitting his suit and the tac vest underneath hard. He swore and rolled, bringing his weapon up. There was motion up in one of the trees, on branches almost twenty feet up. He didn't have a clear shot at anything.

He drilled the tree anyway. The comm exploded with voices.

"What the hell is going on?" Rodney's voice.

"Colonel, my suit has been compromised," Teyla called.

"Beckett, McKay—stay down there and shut up until one of us tells you to come out! Teyla, are you hurt?"

"My God! You can't be serious!" Rodney squeaked.

"What if we don't hear from you?" Carson asked. "Teyla's hurt?"

Sheppard shouldn't have been surprised that when he asked for silence, both men started talking. "Shut up!" he yelled in frustration, dodging among trees, trying to keep moving while looking through the faceplate for enemies. The hood limited his field of vision far too much, and not much light reached to the lowest level of the jungle anyway. Add to that the dense brush on the ground, and it was a soldier's nightmare.

And he was a pilot. He so didn't belong here on the ground.

Ronon and Teyla were moving constantly and shooting intermittently. If she was hurt, it couldn't be badly, thank God. He saw more motion and started shooting again, his heart in his mouth. He knew where Ronon was, but he wasn't exactly sure about Teyla. 

Then Ronon stopped. "Sheppard." His voice was full of heat. 

Sheppard put his back against a tree, aiming his weapon at the man coming through the trees with empty hands held in the air.

"Kill him?" growled Ronon.

"Let me speak!" The man stopped several meters from Ronon.

"Taban?" Sheppard moved to see Taban better. At least _he_ was clearly unarmed.

"We have a simple proposition for you," Taban said.

"Who's we?" Sheppard asked.

"Your former guides." Taban smiled.

"What, you guys unionize or something?"

"Sheppard? What's—?" McKay's voice demanded.

"Shut up, McKay," Sheppard hissed back.

Taban looked at him in perplexity, then asked, "May I lower my hands?"

"No," Sheppard said, and Ronon's growl was audible even through the ridiculous gear. Sheppard couldn't pull it off his head without taking his hands off his P90, and he sure as hell wouldn't do that.

"We have more men than you can shoot," Taban said, keeping the uncanny smile. 

And John had been thinking he liked this guy.

Teyla was hissing into the comm, "Our suits have been compromised and we are being threatened by Taban, our former guide. Stay where you are."

"Your protective covering is useless now," Taban called, curiously unconcerned for himself. "The gas can harm you, too. Take your people and go; we will not hurt you further if you leave now. Leave us with the gas—and the undamaged coverings."

It was hard to make out what Taban was saying over Teyla's voice in his ear. John's head ached already, and he feared this attack was nowhere near over.

"Can I shoot him now?" called Ronon, aiming the gun steadily at Taban's head.

"So you can use it on your people?" Sheppard shouted through his suit.

"No!" Taban's smile vanished. "Against the Wraith!"

"But you just shot your people," Sheppard called.

"A few," Taban returned. "Most are not even dead. But with the gas, we can protect ourselves."

"Are you nuts?" Sheppard started. "You can't get this gas out of here safely! And you'd only be able to gas the Wraith if they were on the ground, outside of their Darts!"

"You are not sick yet," Taban observed, "but I hear it can take some time. Perhaps you should return home to receive medical treatment? You have two men in the hole. They will climb out and take off their suits. We will allow them to leave the immediate area to take them off. Then they will give the suits to us, intact, so that we may use them to handle the gas. If they do not, we will kill you. They will have to come out eventually."

*****

Carson and Rodney could hear scattered words over the radio. Ronon had apparently removed his helmet and with it the built-in comm, so they couldn't hear him at all. They could hear half of a dialogue Sheppard was having, with Teyla's narration coming intermittently and so quietly it was hard to understand. They'd placed all the beacons for the Daedalus, and now they couldn't even pretend they were doing anything useful. 

"They want the biohazard suits," Teyla murmured. "They are threatening to harm us to get your suits. Stay where you are, no matter what you may hear from above."

"All I've heard is shooting!" shouted Rodney. 

Carson too had only heard guns. He didn't even know how loud crossbows were, but he'd never hear them down here. The rest of the team could be killed, and he wouldn't know; there'd just be silence, and he and Rodney would keep waiting....

But the shooting, and maybe even the running overhead, had created vibrations. He'd felt them. Oh, God, what if the containers had too? He looked to the scanner he still held in his hand.

"Oh, dear Lord!"

*****

Taban was getting impatient. "Tell them now to come out! Or we will shoot one of you. Him first." He bent his right wrist just enough to point his index finger at Ronon.

"I'm gonna shoot him," Ronon muttered. His left hand went up behind his back, three fingers raised.

"No!" Sheppard shouted, hoping both Taban _and_ Ronon would listen. "Look, this is a really bad plan. You can't handle the gas safely. You can't get it safely to the Gate—I mean the Ring! Even with two suits, you'd be risking everyone in your village! Think about the children! And your own people are going to come after you!"

"My people are not your problem," said Taban, smiling again. "You can leave, with minimal injury. We will let you go."

One of Ronon's fingers went down.

"No!" Sheppard shouted again.

A second finger went into his fist.

"Wait!" Sheppard tried.

Ronon dropped his hand as he shot.

Sheppard instinctively threw himself backwards, aiming his weapon towards the tree where he'd seen movement before. He landed on his back, but not before something sharp scraped across the back of his neck. He turned to look behind him and saw a figure moving. He fired a long burst.

An arrow must have grazed him. God, he hoped it wasn't toxic. It didn't have to be, though; if that gas got out, the suit wasn't going to protect him anymore.

Damn! Another punch to his back—thank God he'd insisted they wear their tac vests under the gear! But he sure as hell hadn't gotten the last shooter. He turned back and had to flatten himself against a tree at once.

Ronon and Teyla were shooting and running; Sheppard dodged sideways and threw himself around another tree, only to bang the hood on a knot in the trunk. He needed to see, and the suit was useless now. He took a moment to try to rip the hood off, only to find the arrow seemed still to be in his gear, holding the damned hood to the back of the suit.

Rodney liked to call him Captain Kirk, but this crap _never_ happened to Kirk! He managed to push the hood off, but it banged into his back. Another arrow brushed past him.

Rodney and Carson were both yelling over the comm. That was so not helpful.

Then Rodney's voice dropped off, and Carson said more clearly, "I repeat: stay clear of the hole. Gas. All of you: stay away from the hole. Gas has been released."

Hell of a time to get his hood off, wasn't it? At least it was hanging close enough to his head that he'd heard the doc.

"The gas shouldn't be...out...." Beckett's voice continued nervously while Sheppard prayed he didn't miss any important words. "It's heavier than air and tends to...low-lying areas. Whatever you do, don't lie on the ground...get away as soon as you can!" Yeah, that really inspired confidence. The doc had shouted the last bit.

Rodney squeaked something Sheppard couldn't quite make out.

John swung around, trying to search the ground and the trees at the same time. Another punch, this one to his side; again, the vest prevented it from penetrating his skin.

Suddenly someone fell out of a tree with an arrow sticking out of his back.

"Who the hell took that one out?" he asked rhetorically, getting "What?" from two or three others; these comms must be pretty sensitive. He yelled the next part anyway because he needed everyone to hear him: "Looks like we have some help! Somebody just took out one of our shooters."

He began making a wide circle around the hole, pointing his weapon at the ground, in the trees, swinging around as fast as he could and still see properly. 

And he found Ronon and Yuyu facing off a short distance away from him. 

"I shot your attackers, you idiot!" she spat at Ronon, holding her crossbow steadily on him. Then suddenly she jumped, firing beside John, just a little too close for comfort. He automatically jumped aside. A cry told them she'd hit. Good thing she wasn't aiming for him; he hadn't been anywhere near fast enough.

Ronon was spinning around too, his hair swinging out around him. Did he keep it like that to confuse his enemies? It was kind of hard to make a head shot when you weren't sure exactly what was hair and what was head.

"I have brought friends! They will not shoot at you!" Yuyu shouted.

"Oh, that makes it easy," John muttered to himself.

John kept going, circling around Yuyu and Ronon, working his way around—until a blast of ammo flattened him against a tree. 

"Sorry, John," Teyla said breathlessly. "I only realized it was you at the last moment!"

John had had his own finger on the trigger. He'd very nearly shot Teyla—and he was firing on full automatic at this point. He could have killed her. He didn't ask how she could have mistaken his bright orange suit for native clothing, because he'd been reacting to the motion before his own brain registered the color.

"Did we get them all?" he asked finally.

"Not sure," Ronon answered.

Sheppard's head still hurt, and now his neck throbbed. How long did Beckett say symptoms of the gas could take to appear? How would they feel initially? He shoved the helmet back on awkwardly so that he could communicate with the rest of his team.

*****

That was bloody helpful, Carson thought, listening to the nearly random words over the comm. They were clearly missing a lot, and he hadn't heard Sheppard's voice in a couple of minutes!

"Does someone want to tell us what's going on now?" Rodney asked peevishly. He sounded oddly far away.

"We got attacked. We're checking the area now," Sheppard replied, his voice a bit strange. It wasn't coming through as clearly as it had been. "We think we got them." He sounded calm, but then he almost always did in a crisis. Had his comm been damaged?

Carson took a deep breath and let it go slowly before asking, "How badly are you hurt?" He sounded very nearly calm himself, he thought with just a touch of pride.

"Arrow scratched my neck. Tac vest kept the others from getting me." 

Damn. Carson really hoped he'd been wrong about that.

The slightest edge of pain revealed itself in Sheppard's voice. "I'm not sure they were trying to kill us; maybe they were afraid our people would take revenge. Maybe they thought we'd give up without the suits' protection."

"My arm has been wounded, but not badly," Teyla answered.

"Ronon says he's good," Sheppard added a moment later, but they all knew Ronon could have arrows sticking out like quills on a porcupine and he'd give the same answer.

Carson and Rodney continued to stand facing the ladder. Carson wished for a gun, much as he disliked them. He disliked getting killed, or having his friends killed, even more. 

*****

Sheppard could hear moans from different directions, but he didn't know who was on which side. He sidled cautiously up to a nearby woman and took her crossbow. She didn't stir, and an arrow in her chest looked like it had hit her heart, or near as made no difference.

"Dead," Yuyu called back. "I shot her."

He took the crossbow and tossed it as far as he could toward the hole in the ground. Let anyone who wanted it go near the gas. It landed not far from Taban's lifeless body. Their former guide was lying on his back, eyes open. He hadn't moved since Ronon's first shot. Ronon clearly hadn't set his gun to stun.

Teyla was holding her weapon oddly. Her right arm was bloody. Damn! They needed to get Beckett up here. And they needed to get away from the hole. Now.

And Yuyu and her buddies had no radios, so they didn't even know. 

"Look, my people tell me some of the gas has been released," Sheppard shouted through the helmet, not wanting to weaken his link with McKay and Beckett by pushing off the helmet again. "We _all_ need to keep back from the hole."

"I'm staying till Beckett and McKay are out," Ronon answered. Sheppard couldn't see him well—too many trees.

" _They_ have suits. _You_ haven't even got a hood! Go one more time around. Look farther out this time. We can't afford to miss shooters!" Sheppard ordered. "But we also don't want to get _gassed_!"

Ronon grunted and limped away from the tree. Oh, God, that looked painful.

John cursed. "Anything else I oughta know?" he shouted after him.

"Colonel?" Beckett asked.

"Ronon's got an arrow sticking out of his leg. Left upper thigh."

"Don't pull it out!" the doc shouted. "Move _well away_ from the hole. Rinse yourselves with the solution you've got before removing the biohazard suits, then take them off and put them in the disposal bags. Then rinse yourselves again. _Then_ sit down _well_ away from the hole, and don't move until I get there!" His voice changed from frantic to testy as he spoke, which John had to admit was probably an appropriate response to the patients he'd soon be treating.

Ronon kept limping, disappearing from John's sight.

"Ronon!" he shouted. "Doc gave you an order. Get away from the hole and sit down!" 

That was apparently irrelevant. "I don't take orders from him. I'm here to protect him."

"What's he doing? Sit down, you Neanderthal!" Rodney contributed helpfully.

"Can't hear you, McKay; he threw his helmet away before the fight even really got started."

Beckett sputtered incoherently.

"Just stay down there!" Sheppard yelled. "That's an order! If you come out and get shot, Doc, you're not gonna be doing any of us any good!"

A few minutes later, Ronon said, "I count eight dead, two injured. Yuyu says the injured are on our side."

Teyla and Sheppard managed to find one more injured woman, curled against a tree, bleeding heavily; Yuyu claimed her as one of hers.

"Have you secured the area?" Rodney demanded. "Can we come out now?"

"I know my services are needed," Beckett added tartly. "And has anyone checked to be sure Kana's okay?"

Sheppard asked Yuyu, who said Kana was unhurt; he passed the news on to the others.

"And we trust Yuyu?" Rodney asked suspiciously, still on the radio. "I personally don't feel like trusting anyone with a name—"

"I have completed two circuits, Colonel," Teyla told him as she walked up, using her left arm to support her right, which still held the P90. "Ronon has as well. If any of our attackers remain at large, we cannot see or hear them."

Yuyu practically snarled. "They had at least eight. We have killed seven. At least one remains at large!" She had been circling too and still had her crossbow up; she was scanning the jungle around them rather than looking at any of Sheppard's team.

Ronon's left leg was bleeding too; he limped up with the arrow still sticking out ridiculously. Sheppard couldn't decide whether he looked like something from a horror flick or a Monty Python movie. 

"I can see where one ran, but...I can't track him right now," Ronon admitted with obvious frustration. "I say we get McKay and Beckett out." 

Teyla nodded.

John called them out.

*****

Of course, with the other three banned from the vicinity of the pit, Carson and Rodney had to pull the wood back over it, which proved ridiculously difficult while they wore the biohazard suits and tried to make sure they didn't snag them on the rough wood.

"How the hell did he get it off single-handedly?" Rodney muttered. Carson could see sweat dropping onto the inside of Rodney's face mask. But he couldn't see it very well, because he was looking through his own sweat. These suits were supposed to work in more extreme conditions than this!

Finally they had the hole covered. Carson used the scanner and sighed. "We've brought some contamination with us." They kicked some dirt over the edges of the wood, and Carson sprayed there as well, though he wasn't sure it would do any good.

They rinsed off their suits to neutralize anything they'd brought out. Meanwhile, he ordered the others to rejoin Kana and use the extra water they'd hauled to rinse out their eyes and any injuries they had.

It only took a few minutes to wash down the outside of their suits, but that was a few minutes Ronon Dex spent on his feet, looking at them from too close for Carson's comfort. Ronon took the water Sheppard brought him and doused himself, but he remained standing, an arrow jutting out of his upper leg disconcertingly. The air seemed virtually contaminant-free after they'd taken turns hosing down the suits; the scanner registered .005 mg per cubic meter of air on the ground directly over the hole, just over the allowable amount. It shouldn't be harmful away from the hole. Thank God it had stayed down in the storage area. The levels had been much higher down there by the time they'd emerged, certainly enough to cause permanent damage and possibly lethal.

Carson helped Rodney from his suit first because he was a little afraid Rodney was going to have a coronary. Rodney pulled off the inner pair of gloves Carson insisted he wear, gave himself a quick extra dousing, and scuttled over to where Ronon stood, still looking anxious. His friend wasn't good in closed spaces; he knew that, and he'd dragged Rodney down that hole anyway, and then they had a fire-fight above them—if you could call crossbows versus automatic weapons a fire-fight. Well, at least Rodney hadn't been hurt this time. Yet.

Carson put Rodney's suit into a bag for safety and peeled off his own, leaving his gloves until last. He swiped down all the surfaces of his scanner with a wipe and dropped that and the gloves inside before peeling off his own inner pair of surgical gloves, leaving them inside out, and putting them in a small bag to be disposed of as well. He gave himself a final rinse.

He took a few steps away. The scanner now registered .003 mg where he stood, and the others were all a little farther away. That should be good enough.

It would have to be.

"All right, now, lad. Let's see what you've done to that leg."

He got to where Ronon was and stopped dead. Behind Ronon were Teyla and Sheppard, both of whom had wounds that didn't look too severe. Further back, Kana was bent over two patients who were clearly in worse shape than Ronon.

"I think the leg may have to wait. But get off it, for God's sake!"

*****

Sheppard watched Beckett examine the casualties with Kana from where he stood by a tree, trying to keep an eye out for any more threats. He felt a little detached from the whole thing. At least Rodney hadn't been shot—yet—and Carson was still unscathed too. That was really amazing luck, given how those guys usually did. 

Yuyu told him who was on which side. He'd have guessed the ones with bullet wounds were not on their side, but he was very grateful to get confirmation they hadn't shot any of those on their side. Apparently Yuyu's people had had the sense to stay behind their attackers—who didn't seem to be very good strategists, even if they were good at hiding and tracking. All of them just looked so damned young, on both sides. One of the guards who had stood watch over the pit remained uninjured and was dispatched to the village; at least one shooter had escaped, and the village needed to know. And they'd need to send more guards.

One of Yuyu's people had died during the fight and three were wounded, all seriously. One of those three had then bled out before Beckett could finish getting out of his gear, and Sheppard told the others quickly and bluntly that as far as the doc was concerned, the man had been dead since before the shooting stopped. Yuyu's people had been shooting to kill, and they appeared to have been pretty damned good at it. Taban and his people might have been shooting just to wound—but to wound badly, and probably permanently. 

Beckett and Kana were talking rapidly. Sheppard couldn't quite make out the words until Beckett's voice rose, and then he heard things like "No, now!" and a few curses. He'd heard more bad words from Beckett in the last hour than in the previous month. That couldn't be good. Had someone told him that man died after he came out of the pit?

Damn, his neck hurt.

"Right." Beckett was walking towards him. "Here's what we're going to do."  
 "I'm in charge of this mission," Sheppard said with some surprise.

Beckett acted like he hadn't spoken. "Yuyu and two of her people are uninjured. They're rigging some stretchers to get the two injured to the hospital. Teyla seems all right to walk. Ronon shouldn't be walking at all, but I can't dissuade him, and we can't carry him." He sighed. "I'll be lucky if I can even get him to lean on me."

Sheppard looked up at the doctor. "I think you'll be luckier if he _won't_ lean on you."

Beckett was not amused. "Well, _he_ won't be as lucky. Rodney's going to help you—"

"I don't need any help!"

"—as soon as I've irrigated your wound again and replaced the bandages. Now."

"Did you hear what I said?"

Beckett glared. "I don't give a damn what you said. You are injured, and I need to check that bandage."

"I meant before that. I'm in command!"

"As Chief Medical Officer—"

"Don't give me that crap! I—ow! Damn it, cut that out!"

Beckett had reached right out and ripped the bandage from John's neck while he was still talking. "It really is just a scratch," the doctor said from behind with evident relief—and obvious surprise. "Not too deep, but long. 'Fraid you'll be in for a few stitches." He rinsed John's neck yet again, then dabbed at it with something that stung.

"Ow!" John objected.

Beckett took no notice. "Rodney!"

"I'm on it," McKay said tiredly. "Give me the gun, Colonel."

"What? No!"

"You have a tear across your neck and the top of your shoulder. I don't imagine your aim is tremendously accurate right now anyway." McKay was serious. Then _both_ men had their hands on him, and Sheppard finally gave up and let Rodney take the P90.

As the doctor went back to Ronon, Sheppard hissed at Rodney, "You know I'm gonna get you for this."

McKay shrugged. "His idea. I'm just following orders."

" _I'm_ your commanding officer! And it's not like you follow _my_ orders."

"We have wounded. He's put himself in charge." McKay gave the weapon a quick once-over, Sheppard noted with silent approval. "I think people become doctors because they like to order people around. You should have met the one they had at the SGC. Even smaller than Teyla, but just as scary." McKay slipped the strap around his neck, getting the P90 in position. "She died off-world before we left for Atlantis."

Then McKay put a hand on Sheppard's arm, but John shook it off. Beckett was helping the Jaqui arrange the injured on some branches they'd tied together with vines or something like that.

"You know Carson," Rodney continued; he rarely needed encouragement to keep talking. "You really want to go up against him, then _you_ do it. I'm doing what he's telling me."

Sheppard looked down at the CMO. When he first met the man, he'd just learned Beckett had loosed a drone against him. Beckett seemed so horrified at what he'd done, and so afraid, that Sheppard couldn't hold it against him. And he figured the doc for a pushover. He'd learned soon enough that he was wrong.

Even Yuyu and her buddies were doing exactly what Beckett told them. McKay was right. It was easier just to do what the doc said.

Sheppard gave up the argument. Instead, he said loud and clear, "New rule: we don't go clean up anybody's toxic messes without the Daedalus on hand to beam us out!"

No one argued with him this time.

It took nearly forty minutes to get everyone to the little hospital hut. It felt like forever. His neck hurt, he itched all over, his rinsed clothes weren't drying in the humidity, and he really just wanted to sit down. His hands itched to hold his weapon, but he had to admit he felt some pain when he moved his right arm. Why couldn't that damned arrow have gone the other way and scraped the top of his left shoulder? Or just gone lower and hit his tac vest like the others? Thank God the shooters seemed to have little idea they were wearing the vests, or how they worked. The enemy had aimed mostly for the trunk, and all three of them had escaped more arrows than not. The shredded condition of their now safely bagged suits testified to the damage the arrows would have done without the tac vests.

The small building had clearly been built for those injured in the first exploration of the gas pit. Kana had gone ahead, and she and the other woman there had already pushed all the pallets together to make some room at the front, where a large, rough wooden table stood near a makeshift sink. It really bothered Sheppard that he couldn't keep track of all the people around them. He never had trouble like this. He hadn't been able to count their shadows since they got to this planet. They were a damn sight better than he was at this whole escape-and-evade.

Ronon growled behind him, and Sheppard wondered if Ronon was thinking similar thoughts as the big man grabbed the doorway of the hut, releasing Carson. John suspected the doctor hadn't been taking much of the bigger man's weight, but he was still red-faced and puffing.

"Good," Beckett said, slipping past Ronon. He made them sluice their eyes with water again, had them all change clothes from the extras they'd left at the healer's even smaller hut and ran scans on all of them for at least the third time. Yuyu and two others had rinsed down at Carson's orders and now apparently had nothing to change into. He didn't envy them.

Sheppard felt better sitting with his back to the hut, his weapon once again in his own arms. Teyla and Ronon had theirs too. Rodney had strapped his holster back on and sat with his Beretta in his hands, making no attempt to help those working on the hut.

"I can't believe they're operating in there like that! I mean, how many different kinds of—"

"McKay? Shut up."

"Oh, right. I suppose he's gonna get to you after everybody else, except maybe Teyla. I guess you wouldn't want to hear—"

Sheppard took his eyes off the trees long enough to glare at Rodney. "That's right. I _wouldn't_." Wouldn't want to hear how many kinds of bacteria McKay thought were here. Wouldn't want to hear how many ways things could go wrong. 

It was getting to be a really long day. He wondered if they'd make it back to the main village for the night. Weir was going to have what was left of their hides for this. Or she should. She probably wouldn't. The good thing about having a civilian in charge of the op, he supposed. She was a lot more forgiving of mistakes than most military commanders, who didn't care _why_ you didn't get it done right, just that you didn't.

And the worst part was, he wasn't sure what he could have done differently. One look at Ronon's face was enough to tell him that now wasn't the time to discuss it with his team.

By the time Beckett got around to Sheppard, Yuyu and her people had made a good start on a new lean-to on the side of the hut. John managed to get Yuyu to confirm, snarling, that Taban had been released from guard duties because of his disagreement about letting the Atlanteans get rid of their weapons. 

So of course Carson chose that moment to show up and demand that John come inside, and that was all Sheppard could learn of what had been happening behind the scenes.

Sheppard found himself sitting on a table pressed up against the wall of the hut. All the floor space was taken by pallets, some more hastily constructed than others. Ronon lay sleeping in one. Teyla was slightly more watchful from another.

"How the hell did you get Ronon to rest?" he asked as the doctor helped him out of his his tac vest and shirt. 

"I can be persuasive," the doctor said, peeling back the bandage on John's neck.

"He threatened to put Ronon's leg in traction to make sure he kept it still if he refused the 'mild sedative' Doctor Beckett wished to use."

John looked around the hut. "Traction? How were you gonna manage that?"

Carson shrugged tiredly. "I haven't a clue. But, more importantly, Ronon hadn't a clue either."

"So he let you give him a 'mild sedative.'"

"Teyla encouraged him, too!" the doctor said emphatically.

Teyla smiled a little oddly. "I reminded him of Sergeant Ogawa's injuries and how his leg was suspended in the infirmary—until the Daedalus took him back home."

"I hope he doesn't take revenge on you, love."

She smiled wider. "He will not bear me any ill will."

"Aye— _I'm_ the one he's going to kill," Beckett mumbled.

"You? Doc, he loves you."

Beckett snorted and gave him an injection without warning. John winced.

"You've saved his life how many times now? You know, if it was me or Teyla in that Jumper taking out that Wraith that he told us _not_ to take out on Sateda, we'd have needed you to put us back together afterwards. But you? _You_ killed the thing, and _you_ he hugs!"

Beckett poked him. "Numb yet?" he asked.

"I wish," Sheppard answered. "Oh! You mean my _neck_!" 

Could the man really not know he was one of Ronon Dex's favorite people? Okay, so the big guy wasn't awfully demonstrative. But hey, that bear hug he gave the doc should have been one hell of a clue. Of course, Ronon did pass out right after that.

"I'm just going to give you a few stitches," Carson told him. 

"Oh, come on, Doc! If you ever get in trouble, I swear, he'd trample the rest of us just to get to you."

Then he felt the needle. "Ow!" He got no sympathy. He wasn't feeling it much, so whatever Carson had given him just now must be starting to work. "So, Teyla, how's your arm?"

She shrugged one-armed. "I fear I will not be able to shoot accurately for several days, and our training sessions will have to be postponed."

"We are _so_ off this planet," Sheppard muttered.

Carson let out a sound of displeasure. "I don't think so, Colonel! You're wounded, Teyla's wounded, and Ronon shouldn't be on that leg at all! We won't be walking back for at least two days, I'm afraid. We'll miss our check-in, and Doctor Weir will call—Rodney?" he called in a louder voice. "When we miss our check-in, will At—will our people be able to radio us here?"

"We're near the end of our range, but with luck and the right atmospheric conditions, they might. Why? We're not leaving?" Suddenly McKay was in the hut, and immediately in John's personal space, because he was just barely inside the door himself.

"Whoa! Fire marshal says we're over capacity!" Sheppard said, pushing Rodney away. 

"It is a bit crowded in here," Carson said. "Rodney?"

Rodney took two steps backwards. "Fine! I'm out of the hut! But I'm staying right here! I am _not_ running around a jungle where people want to shoot at us just to try to make radio contact!"

Finishing the bandage, Beckett answered, "I wasn't suggesting you go, Rodney."

John wondered if the wound would leave a scar, but he wasn't going to ask right then. "You know, I _am_ still in charge here," he said instead.

"Oh! Begging your pardon, Colonel Sheppard. Would you care to walk through the jungle at dusk, fighting swarms of mosquitoes and dragging Mister Dex behind you?" 

"Mosquitoes!" Rodney was suddenly in the hut again. Scratching, no less.

Teyla giggled. What had Beckett given her?

Sheppard sighed and turned to face the doctor, who was still behind him. 

Beckett lowered his eyes and apologized before Sheppard could even get a word out. "I'm a wee bit tired, Colonel," he added.

"Yeah. We all are." He wanted to set up a watch, but Ronon didn't look like he'd be chipping in tonight. "How long is he out for?"

"A normal person would be down eight to ten hours with what I gave him." It was the doctor's turn to sigh. "So we have at least a couple. I don't know."

"Well, I guess we're bunking down here for the night."

Rodney grumbled. Sheppard set up a watch anyway. The nights here were fairly long, which was a good thing, he felt right now. He could use some sleep. They'd have almost ten hours of darkness. He announced the rotation, and immediately McKay and Beckett traded times. John just didn't care anymore.

Teyla seemed punchy and then fell asleep. The three of them who were still awake had a dinner of MREs just outside the lean-to while the Jaqui shared whatever they had brought, which really didn't look like enough for everyone. That was too bad, because what had been brought for the patients looked better than anyone's MRE. Ronon slept through dinner. Beckett might be partly right; Ronon wouldn't be happy about this. 

Carson finally admitted he'd given Teyla codeine.

"You could have told me that before I set up the watch rotation!" Sheppard hissed in exasperation. Carson had offered him some too, but of course he'd refused.

"But she'd have noticed that," Carson responded, "and asked why it would interfere with her watch."

"Oh, and she'll never notice she's been put to sleep!" John shook his head at his own bad wording. "You didn't tell her you gave her codeine?"

"Actually, I did tell her it was acetaminophen with codeine." He squirmed a little.

"And she was all right with that?"

Beckett shifted again. "It might have been the way I said it."

"Like you mumbled the word 'codeine'?"

Carson wasn't making eye contact. "Not really. More like, 'It's just acetaminophen with codeine. You've had that before, haven't you?'"

He'd probably thrown "love" or "lass" in there too, with a reassuring smile. 

Sheppard remembered that a few weeks after they'd all arrived in Atlantis, Peter Grodin had had a little too much to drink at a celebration the Athosians threw and told him that Beckett wasn't supposed to be wearing the Scottish flag on his uniform at all. He was supposed to have the Union Jack. But Beckett had made the substitution on every jacket he had, and nobody had ever called him on it. Carson would go directly up against someone when he had to, and he won more often than not. But people rarely appreciated how sneaky he could be.

"How do I know you're not gonna drug me?" John asked.

Carson looked slightly hurt. "I didn't list all the effects, but I did tell Teyla what I was giving her. I do _try_ , Colonel, to be honest with my patients. Most of them, anyway," he muttered. He must still be thinking about those damned Wraith they'd tried to make human. Well, it was that, or just turn off the stasis on the damaged Hive ship.

Rodney was rummaging through the packs. 

"One MRE is plenty, McKay!" Sheppard called. He hoped they'd move out in the morning, but he wasn't sure, and he wasn't going to chance running out of food they knew was safe. For some definition of the word "safe."

"I'm not looking for MREs, Colonel! We've already missed check-in. I'm going to try to rig an antenna to boost the signal so that when Doctor Weir calls, we can maybe hear her and tell her what's going on. And get a Jumper here!"

"There's nowhere to _land_ a Jumper, Rodney," Carson replied even before John could.

Rodney broke off his hunt in annoyance. "And how would you know? Sure, _you_ might need a landing strip the length of the space shuttle's to bring in—"

"I asked," Carson answered simply. He added, "I told them what kind of space we wanted, and Wayu tells me the closest clearing big enough is the beach. We could walk to the village just as easily as there! We're not making it to the beach _or_ the village tonight."

"The antenna's a good idea, Rodney," Sheppard called.

Rodney resumed his rummaging with, "Of _course_ it's a good idea!"

"'course it's a good idea! I'm God!" Sheppard mumbled into his canteen with his best Monty Python accent, winning a startled giggle from Carson.

"Are you laughing at me?" Rodney demanded. "I couldn't quite make out what you said—"

"How big is this antenna you're going to make?" Carson interrupted. 

"Well, the bigger, the better. Sometimes size _does_ matter."

"What the hell did you bring?" Sheppard watched as McKay took out wires or cables of some sort. "What are those?"

"I thought we'd have a Jumper coming, so I brought everything I'd need to interface my equipment, any medical scanners—"

"And a good deal more," Carson observed.

"Oh, so now you do electronics, too?" McKay snarled.

"No wonder he's always complaining about the weight of his pack!" Carson said to John with a hint of amusement. 

"Oh, great! It's starting to rain already!" He scooted back into the lean-to, and they followed.

Carson was, as even Rodney had to admit, "good for something," and he was soon connecting cables almost as fast as Rodney could tell him what to do, while McKay pulled everything out of his bag. "Easier than surgery," Carson said with a shrug. "If I do the wrong thing, no harm done—"

"Hey! I heard that!"

"I thought you'd be pleased I take more care with my patients than with your wires. They aren't feeling any pain."

"Neither are Teyla and Ronon," John snickered.

"What, he drugged them?"

"Pay attention, Rodney!" How could he have missed all that discussion of drugs—and Carson's means of persuasion? "Is that really gonna do us any good?" The wires would doubtless be more impressive if they weren't lying in a small heap on the dirt.

"It'd be best if I could get the top up into a tree somewhere. Better still if I can hang it between two of them. But it's raining now, and I'm no good at climbing trees—"

Even with just the shadows from the flashlights, which were aimed at the wires and not at their faces, John could see the expectant look Rodney gave him.

"He's not climbing a tree with that cut across his neck!" Carson said. "And there's no way on God's green earth I'm going up, so just forget it."

Rodney grumbled about this not being _God's_ green earth. In the end, two Jaqui climbed trees, holding the new antenna carefully between them and giving all three of the Lanteans dark looks they could recognize even with just the one flashlight. The Jaqui managed to string the damned thing without breaking it, apparently, with just enough to reach to the ground right outside the lean-to.

John instructed the others to wake him if Atlantis called after his watch. God knows what the other two would tell her. The two of them could be such alarmists that Elizabeth might end up sending in the Marines. That would _not_ go over well. 

Rodney bedded down, with lots of muttering, on a pile of leaves the Jaqui had piled together, covered with an emergency blanket. The doctor went in to check the patients again. John didn't know how he could even walk among them, they were packed so tight. 

Beckett checked under John's bandages carefully with a flashlight after he'd finished in the main hut. He announced with relief that none of the new patients showed any signs of gas exposure yet—though it was still too soon to be certain.

It was an uneventful watch. Beckett moved around on his bed of moss far too often, so John knew he wasn't sleeping, but Rodney was snoring lightly. John listened to the rain and tried to hear anything unusual. He knew they'd probably never hear anything coming through the steady downpour, but he couldn't _not_ post a watch. It went against everything in him to do so. He'd already screwed up badly enough, with half the people under his command here injured—and Teyla and Ronon hadn't recovered all that long ago from their last injuries, damn it! He wasn't going to take any chances he didn't absolutely have to take.

He was glad that Rodney woke him when Elizabeth radioed. It was pretty hard to hear through the static and above the rain, but he did report. She wasn't happy, but there wasn't much she could do except send another team, and John managed to convince her that wasn't a good plan. "If most of the people really are behind us, as Yuyu and Kana tell us, sending the Marines would only convince them we don't trust them. And if we're _not_ popular, you'd just be sending the other team into an ambush."

He went back to sleep and woke again later with a start; he nearly had his hand around his assailant's throat before he realized he wasn't being attacked. Carson was just checking under his bandages again. An attacker, after all, wouldn't use a flashlight.

"You didn't drug me, and you honestly thought you could do that without me noticing?" he hissed in annoyance, directed more at himself, for not awakening faster, than at the doctor. He was also annoyed that Rodney had stirred but not awakened.

Carson apologized, retaped the bandages with a hand that seemed just slightly unsteady for a moment, and went to the opening to return to watch.

After a little while, when John couldn't get back to sleep, he slipped over next to a startled Carson. Well, really, he bumped right into Carson. It was pitch black, and his idea of where Carson was sitting by the opening was must have been off by a couple of inches.

After Carson's breathing had returned to normal, the doctor whispered, "I heard someone moving, but I thought it was just you or Rodney, moving in your sleep."

"Yeah. Sorry about that, doc." He wished he could see the man's face. "Have you gotten any sleep tonight?"

"Some," Carson answered a little too easily, like he expected to be asked. "I've had many worse nights. Comes with the territory. Don't worry about me. At least I didn't get shot with arrows, lad."

Lad. As if Carson was older than all of them. He even called Ronon that. Probably Caldwell, too. John would like to see that sometime.

"It's not your fault, Doc. You gotta know that."

John waited for a response. Getting none, eventually he added, "Coming here, helping these people—that was my call, and Elizabeth's call. You gave your input, but we made the final decisions."

"And I'm sure you'd have made the same decision if I'd said, 'No, we have no business being there.'"

John blew out a small puff of air. It was so humid he felt like he could still feel it in a little cloud in front of his lips. "But it was our decision."

Carson might have nodded, or shaken his head; John couldn't tell. "Teyla and Ronon will be fine. A small scar each, I should think—although they both heal remarkably well, so perhaps not. You'll be fine. But so many dead, fighting among themselves."

"They could have done that without us. They couldn't keep the gas secret forever. People must be wondering what happened to the patients in this hospital!"

"Aye. Kana told me that they told the village as soon as we'd gone. Then they could reveal where the five of them were, and that they were alive. They'd told their families and friends they'd all taken sick, but people had been suspicious. And fearful. It's only natural."

"And if those—those in the minority, if Kana and her group are telling us the truth—if they got hold of the gas, we'd see a lot more dead, wouldn't we?"

Again, John thought there was a little motion next to him. "I'm certain of it. If they'd tried to transport it to the Gate—they could have wiped out the whole village." But before John could respond, Carson added, "They won't be safe until the gas has been destroyed."

"Right. But we'll get there. The Daedalus can be here in less than a week, and then they'll be fine." John didn't have any intention of waiting for the Daedalus to come before they left this place. They'd come back with the ship, assuming nothing else went wrong, but he didn't want to spend any more time on the ground here than he had to. 

"Right." Carson was silent for a bit, and then said, "You should get more sleep."

But John wasn't ready to sleep again just yet. "I meant what I said about not trying to wipe out past guilt by what we do here."

"Oh, I'm not." 

He sounded perfectly sincere, but Sheppard didn't buy it. "Right," he said, drawing out the word, daring Beckett to contradict him.

"No. There's no absolution to be found here. The mistakes I've made over the past couple of years—nothing I do here will wipe those out. I just keep on trying to do better."

The words were so matter-of-fact that they took Sheppard's breath away. He could agree with the sentiment, but he didn't expect to hear it from the doc, who took everything to heart.

A brief flash of light as the doctor checked the time. "Since you're up, would you be a good lad and take over my watch while I check on my other patients?"

Sheppard heard Rodney stirring in the lean-to. It was still too damned hot; the little shelter was too small to let their body heat out. He heard a low rumble from the hut and had to smile. Ronon was finally awake, though he couldn't make out what the man was saying. 

In a few minutes, the light flashed briefly into the lean-to, and Carson followed. Even Rodney stirred this time. 

"How's Ronon?" Sheppard hissed.

"I told him if he wanted to go anywhere tomorrow, he had better get some more sleep," Beckett whispered back.

"You're going to let him walk today?"

"No, of course not. I said _tomorrow_."

"Does he know it's after midnight and that you must have been trained by a lawyer or a Jesuit?"

"Quiet!" Rodney said in a low voice.

"Sorry!" Carson returned. Sheppard thought he could almost hear him smiling.

"And Teyla?" Sheppard ignored McKay.

"Resting comfortably."

"How much codeine did you give her? Look, if you're not gonna let us go anywhere today, give me the final watch, and I'll sleep during the day. You know me. Sleep through anything."

Carson made a rude noise, and Sheppard got hit in the back with a small stick that must have been in with the leaves.

"Quiet!" McKay growled.

"I'm not going back to sleep," Sheppard said right into his ear, with as much threat in his voice as he could muster, "until you promise to get me up when your watch ends."

"Fine." 

He'd won, but he'd lost. Now he'd have to do the last watch. Sheppard lay back down on the moss, too sticky to sleep but bone-tired.

Beckett did rouse him ninety minutes later, and Sheppard waited for the dawn in silence. The doc seemed to fall asleep this time.


	7. Chapter 7

Dawn came far too soon. Carson knew he needed more sleep. He was usually good at grabbing sleep whenever he had a chance, but the worry had been weighing him down too much. Twenty-four hours, he kept thinking. It could take twenty-four hours for a reaction to mustard gas to appear. And with broken skin on three of Sheppard's team and as many of the natives, he was deeply concerned about the damage the gas could do. He had to admit he was more worried about his friends than the Jaqui. A doctor shouldn't have favorites, but he couldn't help it. He would give them all the best care he could, though. Unlike he'd done for Barroso.

He knew that one of the guides had died after being dragged over with the other patients, and Kana had admitted it. She said his teammates had wanted to protect him from the knowledge. Biting back a remark that he didn't have teammates, he'd let it go. They meant well, he was sure. But honestly, they'd put the bodies in one place and the live patients in the other. They'd forgotten to move the patient who died; he was still with the living. He knew they were distracted, and he hoped that was the only reason they hadn't moved the body, and that it wasn't that they thought he was easily fooled. He did wonder if he could have gotten out of that suit faster. But if he'd been careless in his decontamination, he risked not just himself, but his friends and their allies. If he'd gotten any residue on his clothing, he could have harmed the others.

Besides, Kana might not have all the resources he had, but she seemed to be a damned fine healer in her own right. If she couldn't save the man, Carson doubted he could have done much, given the conditions.

At least the rain had stopped. Carson stumbled into the hut to use the enzyme toilet there. He woke Rodney so he wouldn't have to deal with Sheppard alone—he didn't think for a moment Sheppard would really sleep during the day—and he checked Rodney's eyes, lungs, and skin just in case Rodney's suit had been compromised. That, of course, made Rodney freak out enough that everyone was awake. 

Wayu was doing the checks on the patients in the huts, so he checked Sheppard again himself. The man obviously needed more sleep. Carson kicked himself for letting the Colonel take the last watch. He wasn't certain Sheppard had slept well since that damned planet with the Wraith device weeks ago, though any attempts to ask him how he was got nowhere.

Then he heard familiar voices from inside the hut and figured it was time to face Teyla and Ronon.

Ronon was already on his feet. Wayu told him, "I see no signs of the poison in him, but he has a serious injury. He says, however, that _you_ said he could walk today."

"I did not," Carson said confidently. "I said _tomorrow_."

"You said it last night," Ronon said in a gravelly voice.

"And I said it well after midnight. No one's going anywhere today. Walking could aggravate all your wounds"—he gestured to Teyla, who had also awakened and was giving him a sour look that he ignored for the moment—"and no one is walking any distance until I'm sure none of us were gassed at all."

"What did you give me?" demanded Teyla with unusual peevishness.

"Not breakfast," he said with a smile. "Hungry?"

"He drugged me," she told Ronon with a bitterness he rarely heard in her voice. "I know I have had acetaminophen before, but what precisely _is_ 'codeine'?"

He had been surprised she accepted it so willingly. "Ah, well, it's a narcotic used as a pain-reliever. Made the acetaminophen a little more powerful."

Her eyebrows remained drawn low over her eyes. "Is it perhaps related to _morphine_?" she asked.

He nearly said _dear God_ out loud but stopped himself and put on a cheerful face. "Why, yes, Teyla! Very good! Yes, breakfast all round, I think." He must have covered that in some first-aid lesson, and she'd simply forgotten in her pain and exhaustion last night. Or she was a very good guesser.

Ronon started laughing, and Teyla looked around—as if for a weapon.

Carson tried to duck back out of the hut and found Sheppard right outside. An amused Sheppard. How annoying.

"I told you he wouldn't hurt you," Sheppard said, grinning smugly.

"I think it's too soon to say that," Carson replied. "And you didn't say anything about _her_."

Before the morning was half over, they all had cabin fever, though no one had hurt him yet. Rodney had actually come closer to injury at the hands of his teammates, making too many spork jokes at breakfast and then lunch to the captive audience of Teyla and Ronon. John had brought cards and insisted on trying to play card games. Carson and Rodney had both lost enough poker games badly enough to learn not to play with Colonel Sheppard. They played some gin rummy, but none of them liked it that much, and it was when Colonel Sheppard announced plans to teach Teyla or Ronon bridge that Rodney ran out on him. He actually left the safety of the hut and lean-to, with an unhappy Yuyu, to look at radiation readings—he said. Carson had really wanted Rodney for backup.

"But Rodney! You _love_ bridge!" Sheppard called after the retreating scientist.

"Which is why I'm not gonna help you _teach_ it to—new people!" Rodney called back with more discretion than he usually demonstrated.

"Well, then I'll teach them _both_ bridge," the Colonel said with far too much satisfaction for Carson's comfort. "You already know it, I'm sure?" 

Unfortunately, yes. He'd never had to play Sheppard before. Carson had played occasionally at uni and got roped into games in Antarctica, but he found it to be a terrible mistake. Invariably, they'd play three or four rounds, and then someone would say, "I've got the rest," or "You've got two, we've got the others," and they'd lay down their cards and start a new game while Carson struggled to figure out how on Earth they could have known what would happen with cards they hadn't played yet. If he asked, Rodney would tell him how stupid he was, and Radek would smirk. It was a nightmare. Thank God the bridge players seemed to have enough people on Atlantis that they didn't need him.

"It's that or poker," Sheppard threatened when Carson didn't answer.

"Cool! I already know poker," Ronon answered, so the choice was clear.

Bridge it was.

A runner from the village arrived to announce with rather too much pleasure that the last of their attackers had been taken at the village, her injuries betraying her. Her wounds had been treated, and then she had already been exiled for life. Carson shuddered. That would have to be his worst nightmare, being sent away from everyone he knew. And to be sent away while still healing! But she had killed some of her own people. He was glad he didn't have to judge such cases himself.

Unfortunately, the arrival of news did not change anything else, and by mid-afternoon, Carson had had enough. He'd taken as many breaks to check his patients as he possibly could. None of the new patients showed any signs of gas exposure. Ronon was restless and limped to the toilet and back when Carson said he couldn't go anywhere besides his pallet, the toilet, and the small circle of card players outside the hut. He was starting to think maybe he should let Ronon walk today, because no threats were going to be enough to get Ronon to take more drugs, and there'd be nothing to keep him still. And because Ronon kept giving him menacing looks.

They would all be better off in the infirmary, no question about that. The question was the cost of getting them there. Would it be that much better to wait until tomorrow? Ronon would need a long rest at the village before they could go the rest of the way to the Gate. He made a few quiet inquiries of Kana, who told him that going straight back to the Gate would be shorter than going to the village and then the Gate, but it would still be a two-hour walk for healthy people. Better to take the long way but get a few hours' rest in the middle. And he'd feel safer being just that much closer to the Gate, silly as he knew it was.

Carson went back to the area of the pit with his scanner to take new readings. The gas hadn't fully dispersed yet; levels were just borderline safe a few meters away, so he didn't go all the way up to the hole. New guards, dispatched from the village, watched from as far away as they could get and still see the pit. 

Rodney was clearly torn between his desire to play bridge and his desire not to play with beginners, but Sheppard managed to suck him in and was making the dummy rotate out. That suited Carson just fine, until he ended up with Rodney as his partner. Rodney realized that Carson never initiated or changed bids but was likely to raise his partner's bid to increase his chances of being dummy. Rodney made dire threats. Then Teyla left the game, and Carson couldn't even rotate out, and Sheppard declared that meant they could play a proper rubber.

After three hands as Rodney's partner, Carson found himself half wishing he had been shot. "Look, I think you've got the rest." Carson laid down his cards, even though he wasn't absolutely certain. He just couldn't stand to play anymore while Rodney sat right where he'd been before he became dummy and criticized his play.

"What? No, they don't!" Rodney was outraged. "We've got this one"—he stabbed a finger down on a face card in the hand Carson had put down—"and if the finesse falls the right way—" Carson never, ever wanted to be his partner again.

"I could take it since he conceded, Rodney." Sheppard looked daggers at Carson. "But I don't like to win games that way."

Ronon fixed him with a glare. "Neither do I." If looks could kill, Carson would be beyond help.

"Twenty-four hours," Carson said to himself. He checked his watch. "Is my watch broken? It hasn't changed since I last looked!"

"Teyla!" Rodney snapped his fingers and yelled towards the hut; Carson had insisted they move a short distance away so they wouldn't bother the patients, but they obviously hadn't moved far enough. "Take over for Carson here!" 

"I do not wish to play anymore!" Teyla's voice came out of the hut.

"Fine!" Carson yelled. "Look, we've only got...thirty-seven more minutes! If no one shows any symptoms by then, we can head back as far as the village! We'll make Ronon a crutch!" Twenty-four hours was an artificial time limit, he knew. But the probability of symptoms appearing for the first time after twenty-four hours was low enough that at this point, Carson was willing to risk it. His sanity was at stake, and possibly his physical well-being, too. 

Carson was about to make dire threats of his own if Ronon put too much weight on the injured leg, but the looks of pure delight that Ronon and Sheppard were exchanging gave him pause.

"Oh, bloody hell," he said. They'd planned the whole thing. They'd deliberately been annoying him all day. He should have realized.

"You think you're the only one who can fake somebody out?" Sheppard smirked. That was why Carson never played poker with him.

So Carson and Rodney spent the next twenty minutes looking for a downed branch that would make a good crutch. It took less than ten minutes to find one, but Carson didn't want to play any more bridge, and Rodney knew better than to let them sucker him into poker. Then they had to retrieve the cables Rodney had used to boost the radio signal, which required asking Jaqui for help—Jaqui who had not been amused by either spork jokes or bridge.

Thus an hour later they were slogging through a hot, humid jungle, with Ronon using a single crutch and Sheppard and Teyla carrying their own big guns, though Carson wasn't happy about it. He hadn't left himself enough room to argue, after his admittedly rather sneaky drugging of Ronon and Teyla, and he figured he'd better let this one go.

*****

John felt kind of bad for the doc, but his sympathies were more with Ronon. Being cooped up in that crowded field hospital sucked. At least this time _John_ hadn't been the one to shoot Ronon, but he found that he didn't feel a whole lot better just on that account. 

John was surprised the doctor had given in. He wondered to what extent guilt played a part in it. But he was sure being off-world played its own role. Beckett was always most at ease in his own infirmary, and John understood that; he preferred flying to being on the ground, especially in unknown territory, and he'd rather rely on himself and his team than on a bunch of guards whose leader clearly didn't like them.

Carson was sticking close to Ronon, making sure he used the crutch properly and no doubt constantly evaluating Ronon's condition. Teyla was near the front, behind Yuyu. John brought up the rear, McKay by his side; John knew the scientist would rat him out to the doc in an instant if he so much as stumbled. He couldn't decide if that was more reassuring than annoying or the other way around.

It was too damned hot. They might have been better off waiting for tomorrow. Of course, if they made it as far as the village—which was all Carson was willing to allow—he or Teyla could make it to the Gate to report, and they could spend the night at the hut assigned to them. Sleeping on hammocks with just his people beat the hell out of being in a lean-to sleeping on moss with too many other people.

Carson insisted they take a break after twenty minutes. For a moment John feared that he might have been wrong and Carson might have been right about Ronon: the big guy had a look on his face that scared John, but it was fixed on the doc. 

Carson looked Ronon right in the face and said, "You insisted you could walk today. Fine. But you do it my way."

"At this rate we'll be lucky to make it back to the village before nightfall!" Rodney whined, though he had been the first to throw himself onto the ground and take a long swig of water. 

"We will arrive well in advance of nightfall," Yuyu said, staying on her feet and looking constantly around, holding her crossbow. She said she wasn't worried about more attackers. She said they were all gone. But she didn't act like it. John's questions about what precautions they were taking with the exile, and whether others might be involved, had been met with a haughty silence.

If there were more surviving plotters, they would need the suits to be able to get near the gas. The only two intact suits were in Beckett's pack, bagged for thorough decontamination, because they really couldn't spare the suits. They'd buried the damaged ones. 

How the hell their attackers ever thought they could get the gas anywhere useful, John still didn't know. He figured the conspirators were not the brightest lights on the planet. They must not really get how dangerous the stuff really was.

Another twenty minutes of walking, another rest stop ordered by the CMO. John went back to his earlier opinion: Ronon really loved the doc. Because if anybody else had called a halt, Ronon probably would have dismembered them. Carson checked Ronon's leg again.

"Christ, didn't we get here in half this time?" Rodney asked, wiping his face on a spare shirt he'd dragged out of his pack. He sighed loudly and glared at Beckett's back. "He's just doing this because he's mad at you guys for making him miserable enough to leave."

John glanced around. Carson was still looking at Ronon's leg, and Teyla was clearly next in line for an evaluation. She looked slightly happier than Ronon, but that wasn't saying much.

"How's Carson doing?" he asked Rodney in a low voice.

Rodney spared his friend a brief glance. "Well, Ronon hasn't separated his head from his body yet. He's sweaty, he's annoyed. A lot like me, probably." Rodney took another gulp of water, unconcerned, not seeing beyond the surface of the question.

This wasn't really the time or place to ask about Carson's mental state. Well, he'd keep a close eye on things. Maybe ask Rodney again later; he was Carson's closest friend, at least on Atlantis. And John needed to know. But whatever guilt and anxieties Carson carried with him, they didn't seem to interfere with his work. The doc had been more level-headed than Rodney when the attackers came; it wasn't their fault they couldn't do anything but wait in the pit. The pit full of poison gas. And however much or little sleep Beckett had gotten, he seemed to be his usual self.

"All right," the man in question called out cheerfully as he rewrapped Teyla's arm and came over. "Everything looks good. Colonel, how are you holding up?" He waved a hand, and John reluctantly put down his weapon.

"Eager to get back to the village, Doc."

"I know," Carson said, helping John remove his tac vest. "But in this humidity, the bandages are a mess. I need to keep checking them." The doc pulled something over John's shoulder and waved it near his face. "This, for instance. That's come loose and has been rubbing. Why didn't you say something?"

"Ah!" Something stung John's neck and shoulder. "Didn't notice. I thought it was just sweat."

"Right. And that's why we stop, no matter how much whining I get." Tearing sounds; the doc was getting a fresh bandage out of the packaging. "We'll need to go home tomorrow morning. I thought I brought enough bandages even for your team, but between you and the injured locals, I'm nearly out. Just between you and me," he dropped his voice, "we have better bandages than they do."

"Our bandages are quite sufficient!" called Kana from a short distance away. 

"Woman has ears like a bloody bat," Carson mumbled as he replaced the bandage. 

"You flatter me!" she called again.

"Look, one more stint like this, and we'll be back at the village, eh?" Carson got to his feet. 

Yuyu agreed.

"'Bout damned time," grumbled Ronon, and Carson ran up to walk next to the big man. 

*****

Minutes, Carson told himself. They were just minutes from their hut. They could already see one of the huts, and there would be more in sight soon. They could see bits of cliff through the trees as well.

"No surfing," he told the injured men sternly.

"Ah, Doc, you're no fun," Sheppard whined. Great. Whining first. Wheedling usually followed. "It's salt water!" Yes, here was the wheedling part; he'd gotten to that quickly. "Isn't that supposed to be good—"

"No," Carson said quickly. " _No_ kind of water is good for your injuries. And—"

"Quiet!" Yuyu barked. Guns and bows snapped into position, including Ronon's; the big man let his crutch fall to the ground.

"Darts!" Ronon said a moment later.

"Disperse! Separate as far as possible! Lie flat on the ground!" Yuyu ordered.

"Ah, like hell! We gotta make sure they don't come in from the beach!" Sheppard answered. He looked around quickly. "Teyla, with me!"

"No!" Kana's voice seemed to echo. "Stay under the trees! We who are uninjured can run farther. We will run back the way we came!" The guards were already dispersing. "You must lie flat!"

"Fine! We'll lie flat near the openings from the beach! Ronon, watch them! Radio silence, everyone!" Sheppard ran towards the cliffs, and Teyla followed, soon catching up with the Colonel. No one had to ask which "them" Ronon had been told to watch.

Ronon growled in frustration. 

"Right! Running this way!" Rodney headed east and south, by Carson's reckoning.

"You stay close to me!" Carson ordered his remaining patient. If Ronon was watching them, he wouldn't be running off after Wraith, either endangering himself because he couldn't run as well as usual, or endangering the natives with his gun. Carson ran due east, which would leave him a little north of the village, or at least of their hut. 

A few moments later, he could hear the Darts clearly. He ran a few more steps and then flattened himself to the ground. He looked back to find Ronon doing the same a few meters behind.

"This plan sucks!" Ronon hissed just loudly enough for Carson to hear.

Carson looked to his left, wishing he could see Rodney. It was probably good that he couldn't, though; if he could, it might mean Rodney was too close.

Darts whistled overhead. Were these trees the right height? Not tall enough to fly under, but too tall for the Dart beams to work? Damned if he knew. Carson wished he could make himself flatter.

*****

John ran towards the cliffs, cursing in his head because he didn't have the breath to do it. The rock wall was soon on his left side. No opening here. He could feel the pull on his neck, and it was slowing him down.

"I'll cover the first opening," he told Teyla. "You're running better. You take the second. We flatten ourselves, do like they told us—unless Wraith land and start coming through—"

"Understood." She moved past him too easily. He could see the nearest opening in the rocks now. The trees came close enough to it that he could throw himself under a good-sized one and still keep his weapon trained on the opening. He did so with relief. 

Carson was gonna be pissed about the bandage, and maybe about the stitches. Damn, all that sweat dripping in burned. Doc was probably right about surfing.

He could hear Darts screaming above him. Some turned. They must be looking for a place to get lower. A place to get victims. 

*****

Carson's heart felt like it was trying to dig through his chest and burrow into the earth. He hated off-world missions. He never wanted to go on another one of these again. How did these people stand it? How could Rodney? Rodney's fear was one of the things that endeared him to Carson. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one who didn't feel heroic, who didn't like running _towards_ danger rather than away from it.

But Rodney had been heroic many times. Sometimes he did run towards danger. He saved lives. And if Rodney McKay could be heroic despite all his anxieties, there was hope that Carson Beckett could at least do what was needed.

He lifted his head and looked around, but he couldn't see Rodney. Behind him Ronon Dex vibrated with anger, unable to do anything. Not even Ronon could shoot them out of the sky, after all. Carson was terribly afraid Ronon would try something stupid, like climbing a tree. He really shouldn't be walking at all yet, not even with a crutch. Carson had given in too easily. Of course, they'd have been even less safe up where they had been. He'd left patients behind.

Good Lord, those things sounded terrible. He remembered the time Rodney and Laura had been swept up by a Dart, just after she'd knocked him out of the way. They'd been lucky to get them both back.

The sound changed as some of the Darts seemed to wheel overhead. Others apparently just went on, probably seeking those farther regions the elders had mentioned, where the trees weren't so tall and people had to find other ways of hiding. Or where the trees were too tall, and the Darts could go under or between. 

Oh, God. The hospital with the gas patients, and now a few badly injured guides. The trees were taller and sparser there. He'd left patients behind, to die.

He had no sooner thought of Wraith at the field hospital than he saw shadows moving in the trees. He lifted his head. There—not a shadow, because its face wasn't dark.

"Stay down, Doc!" came a growl from behind him.

"I see—" 

"You see what they want you to see. They make you panic and run—easier to pick you off."

Ronon was right, Carson knew, and he closed his eyes. The Wraith could project themselves somehow to cause panic. He'd heard that repeatedly. That ability would be particularly useful in a place where people could go to ground, literally, and evade them. If they could make people run from safety.... 

Carson put his arms around his head and resisted the temptation to look. With his eyes closed, he could hear the Darts overhead, but no one came crashing through the forest. Yet.

*****

Shit. After they'd been waiting a bit, Darts began to land. Sheppard was dead certain he'd heard one, and now possibly a second, besides the one that had crashed. There were fewer screaming overhead now. He couldn't keep count of how many he'd heard. Others must have gone farther away, as predicted.

He pulled himself to his knees, prepared to fire his P90. If he killed any Wraith who got through, none of them could tell the Hive that somebody here had a machine gun.

He waited, forcing himself to breathe normally, slowing his heartbeat. He needed to be ready. Something darted at the edge of his vision, but when he turned to look, it was gone. A projection. He'd had enough experience to begin to recognize them. Real Wraith couldn't be far, though.

And there it was. A drone. He squeezed the trigger. The violence of the weapon pulled at his neck more, made his shoulder ache, but he sprayed until the Wraith dropped. They took more ammo before going down than human soldiers. Now, had he really heard two Darts land? 

Sheppard could hear his own breathing. He could hear distant Darts. He couldn't hear anything in between.

Forget the waiting. The cliffs were too damned high; the Darts couldn't go close enough to catch him. He ran low towards the rock wall and slipped into the opening, then through the narrow passage. He peeked around the rock.

He could see smoke over the beach, but more astonishing were the groups of penguins. Huge clusters were hunkered down on the beach, packed tight together. 

And a Wraith was walking towards one cluster, shooting, and penguins were just falling. A crossbow bolt came from somewhere above, and the Wraith shot upwards. Another bolt came, and the Wraith repeated the action, unconcerned though the arrow stuck in its armor. And then John saw that not everything in the cluster was penguin, and he left the safety of the rock and ran far enough to get past the cluster, to be sure none of the children were in the way when he started firing. And the drone's head turned towards him.

*****

A couple of Darts were circling, trying to fly lower. It was far too soon to feel lucky. A distant sound of shooting echoed faintly. Were they trying to burn down the forest? They weren't doing it right where Carson was, for which he thanked God—but he wondered if anyone was near the firing.

One of Darts sounded like it was getting closer and closer on every pass, not firing but circling.

And then, abruptly, there was a crack, and the ship's sound changed, went out of control, as if it had caught on a tree. Tearing noises echoed through the forest. The sound grew closer. It was headed towards them! Carson pushed himself onto all fours, ready to run if he could figure out which way, and he finally saw Rodney, who had done the same. Something flickered at the edge of his vision—a Wraith! His breath caught, and his hand went to his sidearm, but when he lifted the gun, he couldn't find the Wraith to aim. Another illusion. He slid the gun back into its holster.

Suddenly the noise was very close indeed, crashing and plowing through trees. A white-and-red shape tore through the forest not twenty meters in front of Carson. Screams, human screams, began. There was fire around the Dart and behind it, but it didn't look as if the whole ship was being consumed. And the cockpit was opening. No. No!

Not an illusion—a terrible smell left no doubt that a Dart had really crashed, and the vision of something coming out of the burning ship didn't waver.

Carson's gun was in his hand before he was fully on his feet, and he was checking to make sure the safety was off as he ran towards the godawful mess on the ground, towards the screams, much as he wanted to run the other way. Kill the Wraith first—no bloody good checking on injured people if a Wraith gets you from behind. There were shouts from behind him, too, but he didn't have time to see what Rodney and Ronon were on about. He hoped Ronon didn't ruin his leg—

—then nothing—


	8. Chapter 8

Sheppard shouted as the Wraith brought up its stunner, and the Wraith jerked a little in surprise, and then more as Sheppard fired and kept screaming, willing the people among the penguins to stay down, not to move. He kept firing and firing until it didn't move. Then he went over, picked up the Wraith stunner, and shot it a few more times with that.

He looked for a moment to see the shocked faces of not just children but adults among a group of penguins; then one of the adults fought through to a handful of fallen children.

"Just stunned, I think," Sheppard said, turning to see the Dart from which the Wraith had come. They didn't want to kill with guns; they wanted to feed. 

The cockpit was open. He could hear other Darts. The locals didn't want him on the beach with his technology, getting Wraith attention. Well, he'd get off the beach pretty damned fast. 

Because the Dart looked undamaged.

He was in the cockpit before any other Darts pulled overhead, and not a moment too soon, because as soon as he had the display on, he could see another ship. Damn, the Wraith hadn't left much room for takeoff. He managed to get it aloft without running over humans or penguins, and then he turned over the water. He sure as hell wasn't going to shoot down a Dart on top of people. Good thing that other Dart had pulled over the water too.

It never knew what hit it, of course. Darts weren't on the lookout for other Darts to start firing at _them_.

And now that he had a ship, he could do something about some of those other Darts, too. The ones above the trees. He pulled over the cliff cautiously, waiting to see what he faced on the other side.

Five Darts were in close range. That was too many. If they didn't notice after he shot the first one down, they'd sure as hell notice after the second or third. He'd better be fast. He pursued one that was circling the forest by the village. He could read a fire below him; a Dart had crashed? Gee, and he hadn't even helped that one. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

The one circling came into his sights, and he'd fired before he had time to make a conscious effort. The Dart blew into pieces. Yeah, he could do this.

*****

Something nasty in his mouth—Carson spat, raising his head, but his head was too heavy to hold up. He let it drop again. Ow! That was a mistake! His face felt like somebody had hit it with a plank.

"You better not be allergic to any of that stuff you inhaled," a familiar voice said, tight with anxiety and awfully close to his head.

Carson blinked. "Rodney?" He turned his head slightly and spat some more, moving as little as possible. Dirt and plants. "How the hell—?"

"Ronon the Barbarian strikes again." 

Carson managed to raise his head. Bright sunlight to his left, darker to his right; he turned his head to the right to see Rodney crouched near him, Beretta in hand. "What?"

"Ronon shot you. Feel free to return the favor later." Rodney looked overhead anxiously. "I hear Darts shooting. Not scattered shots like before, but really, seriously shooting."

Carson closed his eyes.

*****

Two down, three to go. But now they were on to him. Well, even drones could only be so stupid. Sheppard banked hard, hoping the Dart tailing him would crash into the cliff, but no such luck. He swooped low over the forest, heading for the taller trees of the jungle up ahead. He wove a little from side to side. It was too much to hope that he could just smash this other tail into—

His Dart nearly took a hit. Yeah, too much to hope. But he did get another Dart in his sights, and he took it out.

*****

Rodney was pretty filthy himself, but he had been sitting up; Carson opened his eyes again. He pushed himself to all fours, wiping God only knew what off his face with his sleeve. His head swam, and he shut his eyes yet again. "He didn't shoot you, too, did he?" 

"No, he yelled, 'Duck!' and shot over me—because _I_ was flat on the ground." 

He flinched as he felt a hand on the back of his neck and opened an eye just enough to see that it was Rodney's. How terrible must he look for Rodney to be touching him? Rodney wasn't the touching sort. 

"Take it easy, Carson. He must have had it on a low stun setting, but low stun from Ronon—"

"He okay?" Ronon's voice called.

Carson managed to look over to where Ronon was carrying a woman filthy with smoke and blood. He laid her under a nearby tree, along with a boy of about ten. He finally had enough awareness, and the dizziness receded enough, so that he could look around more. Sure enough, there was a motionless Wraith a few meters away. No doubt that Wraith wouldn't ever move again.

"He's stunned and I think you broke his nose. Does that count as 'okay'?" Rodney demanded angrily.

"Broke my—" Carson realized he'd been spitting blood as well as plants and dirt. He fingered his nose carefully. His hands came away sticky with blood. "I don't think—"

He looked back at the woman and boy. "Whatever he did, they're certainly hurt worse than I am." He started to pull himself to his feet. Then he decided it was probably safer to crawl.

Safer, easier. One of the two. Maybe both.

*****

The Dart lurched. Two left, and he'd taken a hit, or a near hit. The damned controls were fighting him now. How was he gonna get out of this? 

These two Darts were more interested in him than the Jaqui now. He went for the Gate, straight and low and fast.

As straight as he could fly right now, anyway.

Dialing a planet they'd explored a few weeks earlier, John prepared himself for a sharp pull-up. The Gate faced a mountain. If he was lucky, and the Wraith pursued, maybe he could pull of the kind of manuever he'd like. If they didn't—well, then there wasn't anything more he could do.

As soon as he was through the Gate, John pulled up and to the right. His own Dart screamed around him, but he did manage to miss the mountain. 

The Dart behind him didn't, and the resulting explosion damaged the one right behind that. Sheppard fought the increasingly difficult controls to put down safely out of range. He had the satisfaction, before his forced landing, of reading the Gate shutting down, and that second Dart falling back towards the mountain.

He fought to level his Dart, but it didn't want to cooperate. He bounced once, twice, three times, shedding significant speed each time. Thank God the volcanic soil in this area had only fine rock. A boulder might have been the end of him. He finally dragged to a halt, bruised to hell and gone. He took a moment to get his breath back before he tried to open the cockpit. It didn't want to open, but he leaned back in his seat and kicked, and the metal opened with a grating sound. The hot, dry air came as a shock after the cooler air of the Dart. It had a sharp smell, too, that John identified almost instantly—a burning ship. Not a smell he enjoyed, even when he knew it was an enemy's.

He checked to see if anyone was caught in his Dart's beam. No one, as far as he could tell. He'd let Rodney recheck, but he was pretty confident he knew the controls well enough. Besides, he was pretty sure the Wraith had gone straight to the beach without culling anyone on the way, and he sure as hell hadn't gotten anyone on the beach.

The Gate was more than two klicks away, and he couldn't go through without checking to be sure neither Wraith had survived. He'd miss the rest of the battle. The doc was gonna give him hell about his neck, which he knew he'd more than just pulled again. He'd also badly bruised some ribs, maybe even broken them. He dropped his P90 carefully to the ground, then let himself down after it.

He started across the barren ground, hoping the doc would give him hell. That would mean the doc was okay, and not too busy with other casualties. He'd left his entire team on another planet, under Wraith attack.

*****

"Not broken," Carson mumbled to Rodney, who had pulled him to his feet. "We're supposed to stay down."

"I think we may be talking concussion, too," Rodney called out, apparently to Ronon, who limped up to them again.

Another explosion some distance away. Carson looked—and saw something moving in the trees. It was a blur. He wanted to shake his head, but he knew better. He blinked, hard, and focused on the people nearby. Let Ronon watch for the enemy. In this state, Carson knew, he would be too easily confused by Wraith illusions.

"How many Darts are they gonna crash?" Rodney asked rhetorically.

"I hear weapons. One's firing on another," Ronon said, as if that made sense.

Rodney snapped his fingers. "Sheppard!"

Okay, maybe Rodney was right about the concussion, because nothing made any sense. But he didn't feel nauseous, and his vision wasn't blurry, now that he wasn't facing into the unaccustomed sunlight pouring through the damaged forest.

"Go under some other tree." Ronon took Carson's arm and shoved Rodney away. "I got him."

"You shot me," Carson said, feeling like an idiot, but not sure what else to say.

"Yeah," Ronon said. "But these people need help."

Carson plopped himself down on the ground next to the two injured people. The boy was crying quietly, surprisingly quietly; the burns must hurt like hell. The woman was motionless.

Carson still felt much heavier than normal, but his head was clearing. He'd never been stunned with Ronon's gun before. He hoped he never was again.

"I dropped my pack under a tree. Rodney!" he called. "My pack! Back near where we were hiding!" He had almost no bandages left, but he had a lot of other things he'd need for people with third-degree burns. "And water!" He'd need to wash off the grime. Two patients, and no idea how many others might be on the way. He'd better get started.

*****

Sheppard had started out at a jog, but his neck just wouldn't let him continue. He took some Tylenol, for what little good it did. It took him almost half an hour to get back to the mountain. Debris from one of the ships littered the slope, but the other one looked pretty much intact. He wasn't going to risk letting that Wraith get away.

Clambering up a volcanic slope with cracked ribs and a cut neck sucked. The ash-covered slope had no plants growing on it, and his feet sometimes slipped on the scattered rocks, but thank God the damaged Dart hadn't crashed too high up. The shadows were getting long, and it was hard to see his footing.

The cockpit cover had cracked. He walked slowly around the outside, weapon raised, but could see no signs of motion, and no prints in the ash around the crash site indicated a Wraith had escaped. Sheppard pried open the cockpit and jumped back, bringing his weapon up again at once. No movement. He eased closer to get all too good a look at the occupant. Wraith might be stronger than humans, but even their necks didn't go sideways that far when they were alive. 

Had anyone been caught in this Dart's culling beam? He looked at the controls, a mess of bent metal with some burns across them. No other Darts had followed them through, so nobody had gotten a fix on where he went; there was no hurry to get anybody out. Better to leave messing with that to Rodney; he didn't want to reintegrate somebody wrong.

Time to finish his trek back to the Gate. He slipped and slid his way back down to ground level, wincing and grunting, but from there it wasn't far to the Gate. 

He reached the DHD and cursed to himself. If he went back to the Jaqui, he'd have a long walk ahead of him, and Beckett would kill him. Whatever was left of him would face the wrath of Elizabeth Weir when he finally got back to Atlantis. Beckett would surely tell him to go straight to Atlantis and at least get his injuries checked. And it didn't make sense to come through a Gate when more Darts might be near it, although he figured by now the attack was probably over.

Of course, Elizabeth wasn't going to be happy when she saw him, and he wasn't sure Beckett's people would let him go back. But at least he could tell Atlantis to send, if not the Marines, a couple of medics. And a lot of bandages.

He dialed Atlantis. He hoped they didn't need too many bandages, but better safe than sorry.

*****

Carson did some initial cleaning and bandaging of wounds under the tree, but he didn't have any morphine left, and he wouldn't have given it to a small child anyway. He was relieved when Yuyu and one of the other guides found them and told him to bring the injured to the pavilion. The hospital he'd seen on his first day here wasn't big enough.

Ronon moved to carry the woman, and Carson hated to let him do it on that leg, but he was best-suited of them all to carry an adult woman, even if she was small. Carson's nosebleed kept starting up again, and though it seemed ridiculous to worry about, he knew eventually that could turn into a problem if he didn't stop it.

Rodney started to take the boy, but the other guide beat him to it. "Oh," Rodney said suddenly. "I forgot to give you your gun back." He switched the handgun he was holding to his left hand and pulled the other handgun from the thigh holster. "This one's yours. I put the safety back on!" he added louder, turning towards Ronon's back. 

Carson raised his eyebrows, but he didn't have the time or the energy to find out what Rodney was on about now. He needed to focus on patients.

The pavilion held over a dozen wounded. All non-essential people were being sent off, and Kana brusquely dismissed Ronon and Rodney to go, as Rodney put it, "hide under some tree somewhere." 

"If the Wraith do return, we cannot have a large group of people. And if we hear the Darts again," she said, tapping Carson's arm so that he looked up from his patient, "you _run_. You do not stay with the patients. You do them no good if you are taken. You can come back when they leave."

She gave him a piercing look, and Carson agreed just so he could go back to his patient. She stood there a moment longer, staring at him, and when he raised his eyes again, she said. "We have survived by remembering our ancestors' mistakes and avoiding them. Learn from them yourself. A place with no healers has no hope. Some of our great cities lost everyone; our people survived in this forest because our forebears knew when to leave."

Carson prayed the Wraith didn't return so he didn't have to make the choice. He wasn't sure if prayer did any good, but it was all he could do besides treating the patients.

*****

It was a total overreaction. He was sure Beckett wouldn't have put him on IV antibiotics. And he'd been stupid enough to tell the young doctor that. She might not have confined him to the infirmary for twenty-four hours if he'd kept his mouth shut, or at least been a little...politer about it. Well, you live, you learn.

He watched Elizabeth Weir come bearing down on him after talking to the doctor.

"I see you've made a real impression on Doctor Keller!" Elizabeth announced with a hint of a smile that was soon gone. "The MALP shows no signs of Darts, and one of the Jaqui appeared to tell us that they've left. I've sent Major Lorne and his team with Doctor Cole and a couple of medics."

She pulled up a chair and sat next to his infirmary bed with an expectant look. " _Now_ you can give me the full report."

*****

Carson's nosebleed stopped without much effort from him, which was good, because he had his hands full. When Teyla rejoined them, she told them that she had followed the sound of gunfire to the beach and seen Sheppard getting into the cockpit. The man was clearly insane. But what had happened to him? Was he in one of the Darts that had crashed? Or did he have to go somewhere else to land? If he couldn't land on the beach, he might be very far away.

The mother was too badly burned. Carson had two IVs running full bore into her, but her injuries had stressed her heart. An increasingly erratic heartbeat finally stopped. He pulled a portable defibrillator from Teyla's pack, where he'd stowed it because his own was too full, only to be pulled aside by Kana.

"What is that technology?" she frowned.

"It will restart her heart," Carson explained, pulling a knife to tear open what was left of the woman's clothing.

"So that she can die of massive infection? Her burns are too severe. Put that away!" Kana ordered.

"I can—" Carson stopped. He could probably restart her heart. On Atlantis, an oxygen mask would bring air to her damaged lungs and ease the burden on her heart; IV antibiotics might prevent deadly infection; drugs could mute the pain while she began a long, difficult recovery.

Here, he had no uncontaminated oxygen supplies; the units in the biohazard suits weren't safe to use on an injured woman, not since gas had escaped. He could bring more drugs, but Kana was right. These people had no burn unit.

"We could take her—" Carson stopped again. He wasn't supposed to make offers like that. He jeopardized all of Atlantis.

"You will take her nowhere," Kana ordered, shaking him a little by the shoulder. He tore his eyes from his patient again to look at him in surprise. "She cannnot survive here, and we cannot carry her through the jungle. There are others you _can_ save."

Carson didn't even have any painkillers left; the woman wasn't fully conscious, but she was moaning. There was nothing he could do.

Kana walked back to the patient she must have been treating.

"The technology you turned your back on—"

"If you want to help us, help this one!" She indicated a young man and then called over her shoulder to Yuyu, who disappeared for a moment.

Carson was already trying to set the man's compound fracture with the painkillers Kana had provided when Yuyu led two men into the pavilion. They picked up the dying woman and carried her away.

"Wait!"

"She cannot stay here," Yuyu snarled. "Not all the Wraith ships have returned! We need as few people as possible!"

"So you're taking her to die alone, on the ground, under a tree?" Carson cried.

They all turned their backs on him and carried the woman away; he couldn't tell if the moaning had stopped or was just too distant to be heard. He wanted to go after her, make sure she didn't die alone—but this man had bone sticking through his skin, and Carson couldn't leave him.

He yelled to Yuyu as soon as she returned, and he told her to bring Ronon. She stalked off angrily, but she did it, perhaps afraid he would use his radio if she didn't. Ronon limped over, heard the story, and replied, "She won't be alone, until she's gone."

His throat dry, Carson couldn't find the words to thank the man, who left at once.

Major Lorne radioed twenty minutes later, while Carson was splinting the damaged leg, and told him that Colonel Sheppard had made it safely to Atlantis, and a medical team was nearing the village. All scans showed no Darts in the area anymore; he didn't even know when Rodney had made that discovery, but Rodney was now on the radio with Lorne's team.

Carson felt guilty for feeling so relieved when there was so much suffering and so little he could do. But the team had escaped with relatively minor injuries, and he couldn't help but feel gratitude for the colonel's safety.

The Jaqui were not so impressed with the new arrivals, and Kana took him aside before Kellie had even taken off her pack. "We used your technology and your expertise to treat the people who were harmed by the more advanced weapons our forebears made. And we do not wish to appear ungrateful for _all_ you have done for us."

Carson had a moment to wonder if that included getting shot by a teammate, but he realized she probably didn't even know about that and tuned back in before he missed much.

"We do not need your help with these injuries—"

"That resulted from advanced technology?" Carson asked angrily.

"We mastered fire some time ago," Kana sharply.

"Look, I've had too damned much the last couple of days to split hairs with you, Kana," Carson said, trying to hold onto the shreds of his patience. "You can use my help; you've _been_ using my help. You can use Doctor Cole's help, and my medics can—"

"But we do not _need_ them, and we do not wish to become dependent on them," Kana said more gently. "We have lived this way much longer than you have lived the way you do. We will survive. We have decided. We do not wish to change our way of life."

"And everyone agrees?" he asked sarcastically.

"Obviously not. But the most vocal opponents have...." she faltered suddenly. "The most vocal opponents are no longer among us. They turned their weapons on their own people, and even the few others who might have agreed with them are...sickened by what they did."

"And what about what Yuyu and the others did to defend us?" Carson asked, frowning.

Kana shook her head. "No one is happy about it. But we will survive. And we will continue as we have."

"Never improving? Never advancing?"

Kana stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. "There was a time when Taban might have gotten many to fight on his side. Yesterday? He had the young and the outcast—two of the dead had already been exiled from the life of the village for assaulting others in the community. We were shocked to find he'd been consorting with them. Even with exiles, all he could gather was a small group. For the most part, we live in harmony.

"You yourself asked about our waste disposal and our water cleansing developments. We are healthy. We have improved greatly over the Burning Time. We have _good_ lives. Do you?"

Carson wasn't sure how to answer that. "Fighting the Wraith is a hell of a life," he said finally. "I'm not sure I'd call it a good one. But necessary, perhaps."

"Because of what _you_ awoke."

"Yes. Our mistakes, I suppose, made it necessary." Carson shrugged. "Whatever the reason, it's what we have to do. And we're going to keep using our technology." Even if he hated some of it himself; even if he was afraid of what the Ancient technology could do. The stuff was dangerous, but so were most things one didn't handle properly. Including fire. Used properly, technology could save lives. That burned woman wouldn't have been dragged aside to die alone on Atlantis.

Carson saw the other Atlanteans standing off to one side, with Yuyu and others watching. Doctor Cole was looking at Ronon's leg. 

"I stayed with her, Doc," the big man called, feeling Carson's gaze. "She's...." He raised his hands and dropped them again.

Carson nodded.

"I assume our deal still stands?" he asked Kana awkwardly at last. "I suppose it's for the best if we get our people back home. We'll have a ship here in a few days as agreed to remove the gas; I'll drop by to see how you're doing then, and we'll maintain regular contacts as Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard specified."

"And we will provide you with intelligence." Kana nodded. "Phutu is off seeing to the others, but he has empowered me to confirm our agreement. Take Ronon there. He is injured and...grumpy. And your friend Rodney manages to be grumpy without being injured." 

Carson summoned a small smile, and his face ached. "I think we need to get Ronon on a stretcher. That won't be easy." He looked over at Doctor Cole again. 

Yuyu appeared at Kana's elbow. "I must speak with you," she said, and pulled the healer away.

"I'll just—" Carson waved his hand towards Ronon and started over. He didn't see Rodney, so he had his hand to his radio when Kana cried out.

He spun and walked back to her. Her hands were over her chest, and she was doubling over as if in pain. Yuyu had her arm around Kana's shoulders and looked daggers at Carson.

"Take your people and go," the guide spat out at him.

"Kana?" he asked helplessly.

"Challa," she gasped, looking up at him. Then she spun away from him.

"What? He's hurt? Is there anything I can do?" 

Yuyu stepped so close to him he could feel her breath. "Go," she said angrily. "Do not intrude further."

Kana turned back around, putting heavy hands on Yuyu's shoulders. "These are our _friends_ , Yuyu. Go. I'm sure someone needs you elsewhere." She gave the younger woman a little shake, as she had shaken Carson earlier.

Yuyu frowned but left at once.

"One of Challa's duties is checking water purity. The reservoir is...exposed."

Carson gaped in horror. "He...."

Kana nodded, swiping a hand at her eyes. "He was taken. Another saw him. He is gone." 

He put his hands on her shoulders as she had done with him the day before. "I am so sorry," he said. It was all he could say. It was no doubt too much to hope that John Sheppard had gotten the same Dart that had taken the young doctor, that they could get him back.

She lifted her head. "So am I. But life goes on. I must see to it; that is my calling." She wiped her face again and half turned away. "Thank you for your offers of help. But please, go now. Leave us to heal our own, and to mourn when we have time. You have your own to tend." She inclined her head toward Ronon.

By the time Carson went over, Rodney had reappeared. He was arguing with Ronon, taking the medical personnel's side that Ronon should go home on a stretcher.

Carson held up a hand. "No arguments. Enough death and enough injury today. Mister Dex, you're on a stretcher, or I'll have you kept off duty for the next two months."

"Death?" Rodney asked sharply. "Who died?"

Ronon started to growl an answer, but Carson knew what Rodney was really asking.

"Challa. Kana's cousin. I think they were...close." He hadn't seen his own cousins in months, some of them even longer, but he could imagine without even trying how Kana must feel. And it was a loss from which not even her work could distract her, because Challa should be working with her.

They gathered all gathered their things and left. Ronon made token complaints, but Carson reminded him that he'd said Ronon was absolutely not to walk further than the village today, and neither of them had their heart in the argument. He let Teyla walk, but he insisted she not carry her gun or anything else, and she complied.

It was full dark well before they made it to the Gate; their guides used torches but allowed them to use flashlights to light their way. As one of Lorne's men prepared to dial through, Yuyu stepped in front of Carson. "I will see you in six days as planned?" 

"God willing," he said automatically. That wasn't the wisest thing to say on a planet with a different religion, he considered too late.

But Yuyu nodded. "Father and Mother willing." He thought he read some apology, or at least acceptance, in her eyes, but it might have been the flickering of torches.

*****

Sheppard was glad to see Ronon off his feet in the infirmary. After all, why should he be the only one miserable here? And Rodney and Teyla, having finished their post-mission exams, were filling him in on what he'd missed. Carson was being examined last. John figured he'd arranged that on purpose. The five of them had had a _lot_ of togetherness lately. 

He and Ronon would get some more quality time together, too, it seemed. Elizabeth planned to send Rodney with a team to check the downed Darts tomorrow, in daylight on that planet, but she'd made it quite clear those injured on the planet wouldn't be going.

"The safety was off, Carson must have been all ready to shoot—Ronon, you stunned him when he was gonna take out the Wraith!"

"He wasn't gonna take out the Wraith with that little toy gun," Ronon maintained. 

"From that distance? Of course he would have! And the Wraith had just bailed from a flaming ship! He wasn't ready for Carson! Carson would _so_ have taken him down!"

Sheppard doubted he should ever repeat this conversation to its subject. Carson might like to know Rodney was defending him, and it sure sounded like Carson had been on top of the situation. Until he got stunned from behind. But the doc didn't need to know his friends were discussing his prowess as a killer.

"Ronon? Next time, don't shoot the Doc," he said for at least the third time.

Ronon remained unrepentant. "He didn't duck!"

"Ronon!" Teyla reproached him. "You trust the man to cut into your body! Why can you not trust him to kill a Wraith at close range?"

Ronon finally gave in a little. "I didn't know...I wasn't sure.... Look, the Doc's tough, but it was a Wraith!"

"He took out the Wraith that was killing you on Sateda!" Rodney shot back. 

"He was in a Jumper! And it was cloaked!" 

Ronon didn't often get riled. Rodney had definitely scored there, probably because of Teyla's assist. John was content to sit and watch for the time being. Carson would soon come back from having his nose examined and spring him. He hoped.

Instead, Keller appeared and told them to stop yelling.

"Hey! Where's Carson?" Rodney demanded.

"I sent him back to his quarters for the night. He'll be fine. Oh, and visiting hours are over, Doctor McKay. You can go now."

"We have visiting hours?" Rodney asked, but he was already on his way out.

John jumped to his feet, and his neck and ribs objected at once.

Keller crossed her arms. 

He put on his most charming smile. "I was just visiting Ronon. Really, I think...."

"Busted, Sheppard." Ronon gave him a toothy grin. Those were always scary coming from Ronon.

"And we have not discussed what occurred on the beach." Teyla's eyes were not amused. "You violated your own orders, John!"

"There were _people_ on the beach! The Wraith could have—"

"Yes, they could have! And they would have killed you _first_ , for you were the one who posed a genuine threat to them!"

Ronon was watching in silence. And Keller had joined him. _Now_ she wasn't telling them to keep it down. Oh, no. Now that _John_ was the target, everybody could say what they wanted. 

"We have _practiced_ a series of signals! I would have heard you whistling and joined you on the beach! Covered your back! By the time I heard shooting and realized it was coming from _on_ the beach, I was too late to offer any assistance!"

"My mouth was too dry to whistle?" That would have been a hell of a lot more convincing if it hadn't gone up at the end, like a question, John knew. He hadn't wanted her on the beach. He'd wanted, well, to be the only one taking the risk.

"And if I had not been in time to see you take a Dart, we would have assumed you'd been taken! As it was, we did not know for more than _two hours_ what had become of you!"

John looked to Ronon for support.

"What she said," he said with a smirk.

*****

Carson really wasn't ready to face Sheppard over breakfast in the mess hall. He didn't want to hear what an idiot he was for running towards the Wraith with a handgun and how he should have let Ronon handle it. He thought Keller would have the man for at least a few more hours. But there he was, first thing in the morning, sitting down rather carefully but smiling like the cat that had eaten the canary. 

"She sprung me for good behavior," Sheppard said with a wink.

"Oh, so that's what you're so pleased about." Carson sipped some more coffee. Actually, it was more likely Jennifer had finally figured out that it wasn't worth the trouble to keep him any longer.

Sheppard frowned. "We're all back. We're safe. Ronon needs to take it easy for a couple of weeks; Teyla and I—"

"—need to take it easy for a couple of weeks, light duties only. Ronon should take it easy for at least three, probably four." 

"So what are you looking so sour about?"

He hadn't realized that he did, and not just because of his own poor performance. "Didn't they tell you?" 

Sheppard looked genuinely puzzled. "They told me that one, Ronon shot you; two, your nose isn't broken; C. Lorne and the others weren't as welcome as we—"

"Did they eventually get around to D or E or F?" Carson asked tiredly. "The Wraith got Challa? They got several others, too; no one had a final count when we were invited to leave. And two died of injuries from fires—" Too late Carson realized why they might not have filled Sheppard in on all the news and shut his mouth.

"Fires? What fires? From downed Darts?" Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "No, they didn't tell me this. And who's Challa?"

The second question was easier. "Challa was Kana's cousin. They scooped him up." He wasn't sure Sheppard had really met Challa.

"And the crashed Darts?"

Carson shook his head. "I didn't get all the details. I'm sorry. I didn't think...." He floundered, and he could see the pain in John's eyes for just a moment before the man hid it again. "We're certain the first one crashed before you were even flying, and that one killed a woman and severely injured a boy." Nearly certain, anyway.

Carson tried to put her death out of his mind and focus on John. "Rodney and Ronon heard you shooting later; the one I was running towards crashed on its own. You probably saved everyone on that beach, Teyla told us. And maybe more. If that Wraith had gotten back to the Hive, and told them about people hiding among large birds; if they'd realized the size of the population and that the beach gave access...."

The Colonel just looked at him. Exhaustion from the previous day seemed to seep back into him, but there was something else there, something that Carson recognized: a refusal to avoid responsibility, an insistence on taking the blame.

He lowered his voice. There were others about, but not really close. "It's not your fault, John!"

"And it's not your fault Barroso died, Doc! I don't have a monopoly on guilt around here, you know."

Carson glared at the Colonel. He'd given poor Barroso a great deal of thought, but not just now. So why bring him up? 

Oh. Because he wasn't thinking only about _Carson's_ guilt from that wretched mission. Carson relented on the glare. "What happened on that planet with the Wraith device is even less your fault, John. You shot Rodney and Ronon because you thought they were the enemy; you were trying to _protect_ Teyla. _None_ of your team were killed, in part _because_ you shot Ronon; I know how bad you feel, but he might have done even worse to you and Teyla."

John hunched further over his breakfast. "I know that," he said, sounding like a child being corrected by a teacher.

Carson couldn't help but snort. "You're the one who brought up Barroso! I wasn't even thinking about him!"

"You weren't?" That stopped John short nearly long enough for Carson to get his thoughts back on track—but not quite. "But you've _been_ thinking about him. It's messing with your sleep—"

"I was worried about the gas!" Carson protested, though he wasn't being entirely truthful. He did still think of Barroso, all too often, and watching the team get injured around him had certainly made the last couple of nights harder. But this conversation wasn't about him; it was about Sheppard. "Did _you_ sleep well that night?"

"Actually, I did!" John fired back.

"Says the man who took the extra watch!" Carson snapped before he realized that he had lost control of this conversation. He frowned, trying to remember what his point had been. Fortunately, John seemed to need a moment to collect his thoughts too, and Carson managed to say, "Rodney and Ronon have healed. Well, from the gunshots. Ronon has a whole new injury to heal—as do you, and as does Teyla! You have enough to worry about without holding on to guilt from—"

Sheppard's chin came up and he gave a not quite friendly smile, the kind he usually gave as he laid down his poker hand and scooped up all the money on the table. "I'll give up my guilt when you give up yours, Doc."

Carson shook his head impatiently. "You know what? I'm not asking you to give up _all_ your guilt. Because you need it." He held up a hand to forestall objections, but he probably didn't need to do; John just frowned at him, perplexed. "If I shrug off everything I've done, then there is nothing to keep me from making the same mistakes again. Or worse. And if your guilt does that for you, then you can have it."

John's face didn't change, so Carson continued, "But only what's yours. And what happened yesterday—that's not your guilt to accept, John, any more than it's mine. People died, yes. They were killed by the Wraith. Not by you. You took down how many Wraith Darts? How many people would those ships have...culled, if not on that world, then on another?"

Sheppard sat back a little. His shoulders slowly eased, just a little. He kept watching Carson, but Carson had run out of things to say.

Sheppard's smile this time was friendlier. "Okay. Deal. You keep your guilt, I keep mine, neither of us rats the other out to Heightmeyer." 

Carson smiled. "I can live with that." And he could. He'd lived with it long enough already. It wasn't easy, but it beat the alternative. He'd be watching Sheppard to make sure he kept his end of the bargain, though. He knew the man didn't have a lot of confidence in Kate, which was too bad, because the woman was really quite good at what she did.

"I do need to tell you, though, Doc: you did good." 

What was the man talking about? "I was just doing my job, and I didn't even do that particularly well! None of you should have been walking—well, except Rodney—"

"Of course you did great at the doctor stuff, you always do, but you know that." 

Maybe. But it never hurt to hear it. Especially when one of the infirmary's most frequent flyers repeatedly decried medicine as a pseudo-science, loudly and with creative variations.

"But what maybe nobody told you is that you did the right thing with that Wraith. You were closest to the Dart, you had your sidearm, and you went in to take it out before it could get you, or your teammates, or the civilians—the natives."

Carson was almost too astonished to reply, but not quite. "I didn't protect anyone! I fell on my nose!"

Sheppard smiled annoyingly. "Ronon got overzealous. But if he hadn't made it over to you fast enough, if his leg injury had been worse—"

"If he'd trusted me more?" Carson had to ask.

"You know Ronon. He wants to do everything himself—especially when there's Wraith involved." Sheppard shrugged . "And I'm not gonna say I'm sorry. We're glad—well, not glad, but— _relieved_ to know that you're able to protect us when we need it. And yourself. But killing isn't your job, nobody wants you to have to kill, and I'm not sorry Ronon took that one away from you." He leaned back and crossed his arms.

"I'm not sorry I didn't have to shoot either," Carson admitted. "I just wish I'd understood Ronon. Apparently he yelled 'Duck.' _I_ thought he was shouting, 'Doc.'" 

Sheppard laughed. "You know he was trying to protect you. I told you, Doc! You're one of his favorite people!"

Carson fingered his face gently. It still hurt. He knew he had a slightly blackened right eye and battered cheekbone, but nothing was broken. "It might be safer not to be. Rodney had me almost convinced my nose _was_ broken."

Sheppard shook his head. "You know better than to take medical advice from McKay! But seriously, you did good, Doc." He finally tucked into his reconstituted eggs, pausing after a few bites to say, "I sure am glad we're taking away that stuff on the Daedalus. I don't want to go for a walk there again for a long time."

Carson nodded. "Oh, and about Ronon wanting to do everything himself? I had a little chat with Teyla...."

Sheppard put his arms on the table and laid his head on top. "I've already heard it." His words were muffled by his arms. "Teyla gave it to me, Ronon egged her on, and I'm sure Rodney will get his in—again—any minute now."

Sheppard lifted his head abruptly. "And Teyla's right. I know she's right. Ronon knows she's right. So you see, it doesn't mean we don't trust you. It means we're—" He seemed to be groping for a word or phrase.

"Control freaks?" Carson grinned, though it made his face ache a little. That term probably described all five of them, actually. Maybe not Teyla so much. He saw Rodney walk into the mess and knew he only had a moment left to be serious, so he said, "Thank you. I do appreciate what you've said. It's good to know you have some confidence in my off-world abilities." Maybe now wasn't the best time to bring up the deception about the man who had died after the battle but before Carson had finished decontamination.

" _Some_ confidence? Doc, have you been _listening_? Look, when you're with me, you're a member of my team. And _my_ team has only the best."

Carson looked in amazement at the colonel. While he might have done "good," by no stretch of the imagination had he done "great"; that was what Sheppard's team did, more often than not. 

And Rodney was about to save him the trouble of further conversation.

"Colonel!" the physicist called as he approached. "You know, I've been thinking about what we talked about last night...."

Carson made his escape while he still could; John's eyes were pleading with him, but he wasn't fool enough to get into this scrap.

He headed to the infirmary, which currently had three inmates: Ronon, Teyla, and a Marine with a concussion from some training accident.

Carson examined Teyla's arm first and sent her on her way. It was so nice to have a patient he could trust would follow instructions and not aggravate her injuries—most of the time. Ronon grunted at Teyla as she left.

They often put patients in scrubs, because they were more comfortable than the hospital gowns, and that in turn seemed to make the patients a little less difficult. Ronon was in a gown, presumably because he had a wound on his upper leg. Of course, Jennifer might also have ordered the gown because Ronon was far less likely to go traipsing about the infirmary—or farther afield—wearing it.

"So, I'm next, right?" the big man asked.

"Yes," Carson said, making a mental reservation: next for a check. It was too early in the morning to tell the man he wasn't going anywhere today. In a few more minutes, maybe he'd have the strength for this. 

Carson peeled back the bandage and for a look. "Well, you haven't managed to pull out Doctor _Keller's_ stitches yet." Jennifer had had to pull what remained of the ones he'd done two days ago, the man had made such a mess of them.

To his surprise, Ronon actually looked somewhat abashed. "Sorry about that." He kept his eyes on the injury, not meeting Carson's. 

Carson relented. "It's not your fault you had to run," he said. "Just bad luck." Satisfied, he rebandaged the wound, waiting for the question.

Instead of asking to be released, however, Ronon kept looking at the fresh bandage until Carson tugged the gown down over it and the blanket up. "Your fever has come down; the antibiotics should take care of the rest of it right quick."

Ronon looked at him oddly but didn't ask.

"The wound looks to be healing pretty well," Carson said; "You're always a pretty fast healer anyway." Why wasn't the man saying anything? He didn't look angry, but he must have guessed he wasn't leaving today. "But it went pretty deep, and that muscle will need some time to heal, and then you'll have to ease back into exercise. No running around for a few weeks." He made a few notations on Dex's record.

Still the man was silent.

Carson frowned. "Are you feeling all right? You do still have a low-grade fever. I see you haven't had any painkillers yet this morning?" He made it a question.

"Naw, I'm good." Ronon was frowning now too.

The suspense was too great. "So why are you not clamoring to be released?" Carson was starting to get worried.

Ronon chuckled. "Maybe I pushed my luck too far this time."

Ronon wasn't a man of many words, but those words were usually pretty blunt. It wasn't like him to be opaque.

"Did I take a harder hit than I thought?" Carson asked rhetorically. "Because I have no idea what you're talking about! Your leg _will_ be fine; is it bothering you overmuch right now?"

"I'm talking about shooting my doctor," Ronon said with a lopsided half-smile.

"Oh," Carson said after a long pause, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Look, I'm sorry, all right?" The big man grimaced.

Carson stared at him, comprehension a little too slow this morning. "What?"

"I'm sorry for shooting you! How hard you wanna make this? God, you're worse than McKay!"

Carson shook his head. "I'm not trying to make it hard. I'm just...surprised." He tried to imagine Ronon apologizing to Rodney. Oh, he could see Rodney dragging that process out for a while. But Carson wasn't doing that—at least, not on purpose.

Ronon went on, "I know, okay? I was wrong. You had the gun out, you had the safety off, and Sheppard tells me that you _can_ actually hit...targets."

Carson nodded slowly. "Sometimes." He couldn't help but smile. "It helps if they're stationary. Apology accepted." All right, he was slow this morning, but not completely hopeless. "So who's been giving you a hard time about that? Rodney?"

"And everybody else," Ronon growled. "Look, it's not that I don't trust you or anything...."

"It's just that you're used to relying on yourself," Carson finished for him. "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about—and I don't actually give people extra shots because I'm angry at them, no matter what Rodney told you. Or Colonel Sheppard," he added. Or Kavanagh, who had accused him of far worse. Or....

Ronon grinned. "How come you get it and the whole rest of the team doesn't?"

"Because you're all daft," Carson said simply. 

He had to admit that guilt could be a good thing at times. By the time he left with Rodney and Radek, Ronon still hadn't argued with him even once. He wished his colleagues luck as he went off with the scientists.


	9. Chapter 9

John waited in the Jumper bay for the team to return from the Planet of the Volcanoes. His hopes were dashed as he saw the same number of people emerge as they'd sent. Then he remembered that they wouldn't have brought survivors back to Atlantis but straight back to the planet—

Carson caught his eye and smiled. "We got one back! There was only one in the pattern buffer of the Dart that was still more or less intact, and no one in yours, but we got the one back in perfect health. A little shaken, but that's to be expected." 

"Your friend Challa?" John asked hopefully.

Carson shook his head sadly. "No, someone we'd never seen before. Had the devil's own time calming the poor man down; from his point of view, one minute he'd been looking for cover in the jungle, and the next he was on the side of a volcano! Lorne's people took him straight home; he wanted to walk. Not surprising. Oh, and Rodney and Radek are quite impressed by your flying; they said it must have been like _Star Wars_!"

John shrugged. "Wasn't really up to fancy flying; my Dart was already damaged by then." 

The doctor's eyes widened. "Oh! Even more impressive!"

Sheppard grinned. "I got a reputation to maintain, Doc." He knew he hadn't had any choice. Ensuring a safe landing for his enemies was never part of the plan. And he'd never even know how many had been taken by the Dart that exploded, whether Kana's cousin was among them....

Carson nodded and turned to go.

"Doc?" John started after him. "I meant what you said. You did well. And you've certainly got your off-world time in for this pay period...."

Carson looked at him warily, as if he was expecting a "but."

"I'm just saying, Doc—the Daedalus has its own doctor. We beam the stuff out from space, take it to a space Gate and destroy it, and then go down to the planet and tell Phutu and Company it's done. If anything goes wrong—which I totally don't expect, but you know our luck—if anything goes wrong, there's a doctor right there already. I know you've got research to get back to, even if your staff are keeping the patients under control—which is a pretty big 'if' while Ronon's still there...."

Carson didn't smile, as John expected; he folded his arms instead. "Are you telling me I can't see this through?"

"No!" He hadn't expected this reaction. "I thought you didn't want to go!"

Carson glared. "I walked two hours through the jungle in and two hours back, both times, because _I_ didn't have the luxury of a Dart, Colonel. I'm sure as hell not missing the one trip where the Daedalus can beam us straight in and out!"

John couldn't help smiling. It was a hell of a luxury that busted your ribs and ripped your stitches. Maybe he'd been wrong about the doc's phobia in the first place. Of course, as the doc was saying, this _was_ the Daedalus, not the Gate. "That walk's not a whole two hours! More like—"

" _I'm_ going to be there, Colonel," Carson concluded. "Whether _you_ are—that will depend on your recovery."

"No!" he groaned. "I didn't get shot and crack my ribs only to miss the grand finale!"

*****

Carson found himself ruing his own determination to see the end of the mission five days later when John wheedled his way onto the Daedalus with similar logic. He couldn't bloody well tell the colonel he couldn't go after his own outburst, so he agreed, despite Sheppard's still healing ribs and neck. The stitches had been removed, and the man had been getting antsy; at least if he was on the Daedalus, he couldn't be colluding with Ronon to spar behind Carson's back.

Particularly since Ronon wouldn't be going. Ronon had growled audibly at the news, but his injury had been deeper than his teammates', and Carson couldn't authorize it. 

Carson went with the team when they beamed down to the planet to invite the Jaqui to send a representative to watch the destruction, at Elizabeth's suggestion, but they didn't expect anyone to come. 

Phutu greeted them as happily as he had when they'd first come and sent messengers to round up other elders to greet them. Other Jaqui in the area stared, but Carson couldn't sense any hostility or fear.

Phutu told them that late that night, after they had all gone, a small group of Darts came back—and blew up the Dart on the beach.

"A clean-up crew," Rodney mused. "I wonder how often they crash Darts? They took out anything that looked like it still might be flightworthy, didn't they?"

"I wonder how often they lose half a dozen Darts on a planet with no technology," Sheppard said with a frown.

"They must fly low to take us, putting them dangerously close to the trees," Phutu said plainly. "Not all the Wraith prove as good pilots as you, Colonel," he added with a nod towards Sheppard that was almost a bow.

" _I_ wasn't trying to take anyone on the ground," Sheppard protested.

"If they were looking for technology that could have taken out those Darts, though, they wouldn't have found it," Rodney said, spreading his hands apart. "There's nothing here!"

"The beacons!" Carson blurted. "What if they detected the beacons we used to mark the gas?"

Rodney smirked. "Weren't you paying attention? I didn't want just anyone to be able to find them; I set them so the Daedalus has to transmit a signal before they send one. Their energy signatures until then will be so insignificant _we'd_ have trouble finding them!"

Carson _had_ been paying attention, and he didn't remember Rodney saying a damned thing about the beacons needing to be triggered, but then again, he'd only placed them. He hadn't turned them on in any way.

Phutu nodded, apparently unconcerned. "And so we may be safe for a time again. They came back once hours after you left, but they have not returned in the days since."

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Carson managed to ask, "How is Kana doing?"

The old man's smile disappeared. "She lost her cousin. He was very dear to her." He shook his head. "We are not a large community. Eight dead from the attack at the gas pit and one exiled, so lost to us forever; eleven taken by the Wraith; five dead from injuries sustained in the Wraith attack; and several injured over the last few weeks, some of whom will never fully recover. But Kana does her job well, and many will improve. We have a new healer to replace Challa; Kana has already begun teaching the boy herself."

"And you still don't want any weapons, any help—" McKay asked impatiently.

Phutu shook his head. "We have lost more than twenty by violence this month. But before that we had lost only seven by violence in the last three years, and four to animal attacks! Can you claim so few violent deaths?" He raised his hands.

None of them could argue; even Rodney held his tongue.

"It is not that we do not appreciate your work," Kana added, suddenly joining them. "We are grateful someone fights the Wraith."

Phutu's brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth, but then he let it close again.

"But it is not our job," Kana concluded.

"We will, of course, offer you what intelligence we can," Phutu reiterated. "I do not know if it will help."

"We'll take whatever we can get," John said, and the others nodded.

When the elders had gathered, John extended the offer to watch the destruction of the gas. The Lanteans weren't the only ones surprised when Kana stepped forward. "I will go with you so that there will be no question later," she said.

Phutu frowned, then nodded. "Perhaps it is wise."

"It is not!" Catari exclaimed. "You—you—" She grabbed Kana's elbow and marched her a short distance away.

Phutu watched them go but turned back to the Lanteans and shrugged. "Apparently there will be a slight delay while final decisions are made." Humor returned to his eyes.

"Uh, yeah, we kinda caught that," Sheppard said.

Carson couldn't help but watch the arguing women instead of the people still in front of them.

Their voices were too low to hear, but Catari kept waving her hands at Kana and the settlement around them.

"Thank you for sending Yaqi back to us," Phutu said, unperturbed. "He was most surprised to find himself on another planet! He is not among our traders and has never left before."

"We were very glad to find him," Teyla answered. "We are only sorry we could not save more of your people."

Catari's voice had gotten a little louder; Kana's sounded calm still. The words remained indistinct. Rodney was gawking openly, and Sheppard wasn't much better. Carson made another effort to keep his attention on the immediate conversation, but motions behind Phutu kept distracting him.

The elder went on, "You did more than we could ever expect, and we are most grateful. I hope we may have further dealings with you after the immediate crisis is past."

"We can certainly arrange that," Teyla answered.

"And we'd be happy to work with you on any technology you happen to have still lying around," Sheppard chipped in.

"Or take it off your hands," Rodney added distractedly.

Catari folded her arms across her chest and turned her head to glare at the group. Kana walked back with no hint of triumph, but calmly announced she would join them.

"Thank you," Phutu said.

Carson gave a quick explanation of what Kana would experience while the colonel notified the Daedalus that they were bringing back an extra person. They stepped away from the group and materialized in the transporter area.

Kana stepped backwards with a cry, and Carson cursed inwardly—he had completely forgotten to prepare Kana for the sight of Hermiod, who was operating the controls. Then again, so had the others.

Carson tried to think what to say, but Colonel Sheppard got his words out first. 

"I know," he said in a confiding tone. "I've tried and tried, but he just won't follow the dress code."

Hermiod sighed audibly. "I am Hermiod of the Asgard."

Kana turned huge eyes from the Asgard to the colonel to Carson, and her mouth worked for a moment, but then she bowed her head to Hermiod and said, "Kana, a healer of the Jaqui. I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Her eyes returned to normal, and she even summoned up a smile of sorts.

Hermiod looked back at the console.

"He's not very chatty," John said in that confiding voice again.

"I am in the process of securing toxic gas, Colonel Sheppard," Hermoid said with the slight tone of disapproval that seemed to accompany everything he said. "I assume you would prefer my attention focused on my work."

"I thought you could handle simple transports like that with one brain hemisphere tied behind your back!" Rodney sniped as he went to look at the console himself. "I mean, we mere _humans_ can manage it!"

John grinned. "From our expert in science and cultural relations, the man who can do his work _while_ conducting scintillating conversation with our allies—"

"I leave the diplomacy to you, Colonel I'll-Just-Surf-with-the-Native-Who-Plots-Our-Demise." Rodney didn't even bother to look up. "Okay, we'd already closed off all ventilation to that bay; now the gas is secured, and we're beaming a quantity of the neutralizing solution down to—"

"We?" asked Hermiod, who had been the only one actually touching controls—as he preferred, Carson had gathered from Rodney.

It was a shame Kana didn't seem to be enjoying the little show, but Carson could understand why she wouldn't be in the mood for such things right now.

" _Hermiod_ has just beamed in a quantity of neutralizing solution as _we_ planned into the pit where the weapons were stored, which _we_ marked with beacons _while_ under enemy fire. Now we'll go to a space Gate, beam the gas in front of it, and dial it to destroy it all safely." 

Kana nodded, but her face looked blank.

"So, ah, there'll be a bit of a wait," Sheppard said. "A little under an hour. Can we get you anything? How about a little tour of the ship?"

Kana took a moment to refocus on the colonel's face. "A tour would be...."—but she trailed off, looking away again.

"A fine idea," Carson said quickly when he realized Kana wasn't going to finish the sentence. 

"Not—no sensitive areas, right?" Rodney asked. 

Sheppard's eyebrows went up. "We're in the transporter area now. And we're taking her to the _bridge_ to watch the destruction of the gas, I assume."

"Oh. Um, yeah, I suppose," Rodney said. 

"I could show you the ship's sick bay," Carson offered.

Kana's agreement was mechanical, but at least they had something to do. Rodney pointed out a few features of the ship on the way, but even his commentary petered out as Kana failed to respond. That was too bad; Rodney had really made an effort, but she showed no curiosity about her surroundings.

"Did the patients at the other hospital...make it safely...?" Carson asked awkwardly at last. He wished he'd remembered to ask Phutu on the planet, before Kana joined them. He really wanted to know, but he hoped she didn't have to give more bad news.

"Most of them did. Jalli...they separated and ran, but the trees are high there, and a Dart came in low. Jalli has not been found. We assume they took her, along with the two guards Taban's people injured; they were too badly hurt to leave the hospital." Kana put on something between a smile and a wince. "We believe the drugs and care you provided enabled the rest to run, and thus to survive. Wayu remained safe as well, and Mara is almost the same as he was before all this; he may fully recover."

"And the ones injured in the Wraith attack?" Carson inquired.

"Most are doing well," Kana said with a small spark of cheer. "Urta especially—the boy with the burns whom you treated—he is healing much faster than we'd hoped. The antibiotics you left with us have proven...more effective than ours sometimes are."

"That is excellent news," Teyla answered. "Is there more we can do to help?" She glanced at Carson, who nodded.

"We could—we would like to speak with you about establishing a trade relationship," Kana said hesitantly. "An ongoing agreement. I am not authorized to negotiate alone, but I hope when we return."

"I thought you didn't approve of—ow!" Rodney's comment broke off when the colonel stepped back on his foot, which was surely unnecessary.

Kana frowned. "We would not take your technology," she said sternly. "Your medications, however, we could use." She looked at Carson.

"So you can use things we produce with our technol—cut that out, Colonel!" Rodney stopped, pulling them all to a halt.

"Sorry," Sheppard replied. "This corridor is a little narrow for—"

Kana looked at the two men. Her eyebrows went up and then down again, and her mouth quirked a little. "The question is valid," she said mildly.

"See?" Rodney smirked.

"We still profit from much of the learning of our own forebears," Kana continued. "Our own medicines were once produced by machines, I understand. Now we culture them in special plots or huts, but the techniques may have been first mastered with machines. What we cannot have on our world is technology itself. Items produced by technology that do not damage our world or bring Wraith down on us present no problem—and Wraith have obviously come upon us without technology," she added with a sudden spark of anger.

Then she shook her head, and the spark vanished. "Challa would still be urging me to negotiate for medicines, if he were here," she added, looking again to Carson. 

Carson took a deep breath. "That he would." He wasn't sure what else to say.

What little he had said, however, won the smallest smile and nod from Kana. Rodney muttered something and began walking again.

Kana showed little interest in sick bay itself; she did not even want to look at the technology, saying it would do her no good to see things she could never use. Carson didn't know what to say. Teyla kept up the conversation much of the time, to his relief.

Nor was Kana impressed with the bridge, but she breathed a sigh of relief just as Carson did when the space Gate opened and destroyed the gas.

*****

In the end, destroying the gas proved the least exciting part of the mission. 

Still, Sheppard was glad he'd been able to come. Seeing the stuff go provided a certain satisfaction, especially in light of their close call with it. It was too bad Ronon wasn't here for the fun, but the doc said he was healing well. Teyla had already gotten back to some of her exercises and would soon resume sparring, but if John was lucky, he'd be back in practice himself before Ronon. Maybe then he could get some advantage for once.

They were able to reassure the Jaqui that the data McKay and Zelenka had pulled from his crashed Dart indicated the Wraith just planned a hit-and-run on their planet, where they didn't expect a big population. A few Darts had crashed on their own, and other Wraith had no doubt witnessed that, so the Hive shouldn't get suspicious about the few extra he'd brought down. If the Wraith hadn't come back yet, they'd moved on to other worlds they thought more populated. Meanwhile, Lorne's team had gone to warn the planet that appeared to be their next target, since John's own team was on stand-down.

After very little negotiation, Rodney had permission to recover two damaged ones that had crashed in the forest. They seemed glad to have the debris taken off their hands. The other Darts John had blasted to pieces too small to be worth recovering.

"I _might_ be able to patch up that one you crashed on M2R-773," he told Sheppard as they all marked the main wreck and additional pieces so that the Daedalus could beam them up. "But couldn't you have left it in better shape?"

"I figured you needed something to keep you busy, with the Carter-McKay Intergalactic Space Bridge being almost ready and all."

"That's the _McKay_ -Carter Intergalactic Bridge, Colonel."

"Whatever happened to ladies first?" He grinned while McKay started ranting, waving his hands everywhere. Yeah, it was worth being out in the heat for this.

Soon enough they were back on the Daedalus. "Well, I count that one as a success," John announced to agreement from his teammates and Carson.

"We'll see what we get out of it," Rodney replied darkly, no doubt still upset that he didn't get as much Dart wreckage as he'd expected.

"It's not always about us, Rodney," Carson told him. 

Sheppard stepped out the door, then wondered where the doc might be going with this. He paused just outside.

"But I think next time, you should take another doctor," Carson added in a low voice.

"Why's that?" Rodney asked.

"Colonel Sheppard tells me I'm an honorary member of the team when I'm with you," Carson said. "And your team has a nasty habit of shooting each other."

Was that a gasp he'd heard?

"That's true," Rodney replied after a pause.

"I have not shot any of you," Teyla said with a little laugh. " _Yet_. I have been tempted." John could hear the smile in her voice. He wondered if she was thinking of the bridge game she'd left after Rodney kept telling her what she should have played. "Sorely tempted."

They must have thought he'd left. He couldn't resist. He stuck his head back in. "Glad you guys find it so funny."

The two men started visibly. Teyla just stood there, as calm as ever.

"Colonel," said Carson, flushing slightly. "Thought you'd left!" 

"Like it's safe to leave you guys alone before you get your weapons back to the armory?" 

Rodney gaped for just a moment. "Hey, _I_ haven't shot any of you! Well, except winging Thelan, but that—"

Carson interrupted, "You could have warned me about Ronon!"

"But then he couldn't have shot you! You've been initiated! Now you're really one of the team!" Rodney clapped Carson on the shoulder—hard, it sounded like. "You can start hand-to-hand training with Teyla! And Ronon!"

Teyla was slipping past them to the door, but she turned back with a smile. "Whenever you are ready, Doctor. I will come by the infirmary later today so that you may consult your schedule. Ronon may need a few more days before he can return to training."

"They make me do it!" Rodney's whine sounded behind him as Sheppard followed Teyla. "You get into the same messes we do!"

Carson shot back, "Only when I'm with you," and then John couldn't hear any more.

John told Teyla, when they were safely out of earshot, "You'd think he'd be flattered to be an honorary member of the lead team!" 

"Your mission seems to have been accomplished," Teyla responded with a smile. "Doctor Beckett joined us voluntarily, and this part of the mission went smoothly."

John winced. "It was that obvious why I dragged him along in the first place?"

Teyla laughed. "I do not believe he knows. But you should have told me what you were planning," she chided lightly.

John shrugged. "I figured with Elizabeth and me ganging up on him, we didn't need anybody else. I just wanted a nice, _safe_ mission to...."

"To banish bad memories?" Teyla asked.

"Yeah. Not make new ones." He shook his head.

Teyla stopped and put a hand on his arm. "I regret that we lost Challa, and some whose names I never even learned. I am sorry that you and Ronon were injured, and that Ronon could not join us today. But I will remember more a thriving people no longer threatened by poisonous gas, a resourceful people who survived a culling. I remember a beautiful beach."

He knew she was right. Maybe they could only get one person out of those Darts, but how many Jaqui survived because he'd taken out two Wraith on the ground who might have told them about the hiding-among-penguins trick? Because he'd taken out half a dozen Darts in the air? How many might survive on the next planet, or the ones after that, because there were that many fewer Wraith? 

But all that was pretty heavy, so instead, he said, "And do you remember the scheming doctor who convinced you to take acetaminophen with codeine? The bridge game from hell?" How could he get his arm back without being rude?

Teyla squeezed his arm and smiled again, knowing he was joking but answering anyway, "I prefer to remember the moment when you and Rodney came through the break in the cliffs and saw the penguins." She was...beaming. There was no other word for it. That wasn't fair. "You and I have already returned to duty, and Ronon will be fine. Doctors McKay and Beckett remain unharmed! And you look as if you are finally sleeping well again."

John frowned. "I what?" 

She released his arm and started walking again, turning her face so he couldn't tell if she was looking smug. Carson and Rodney's voices were coming closer, arguing about something he couldn't quite catch.

He'd forgotten she'd been concerned about him a few days ago. Before the other two could quite reach them, he took a few quick steps to catch up with Teyla and said, "Here's something I'll remember: best surfing I've had in years. Can't wait until we have another mission there. I'm gonna bring my trunks. 'Spose I can't really lug my board in, though."

They arrived at sick bay for their post-mission physical.

"Perhaps you could ask Ronon to carry it," Teyla suggested.

John grinned. "Maybe I will." How often had they been coming here? Once a season? They'd have to keep coming back at least that often. And the Jaqui had obviously decided they liked him better than Lorne, so this planet was being reassigned to his team, effective now.

Then Rodney and Carson reached sick bay. The gang was almost all there. It would be good to have Ronon back with the team. It felt great to be back himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Sheppard is singing David Byrne's "Civilization" when he delivers the line about knives and forks.


End file.
